1  As  Thor  had  fttprp  thnti  once  come  into  contact  with  porcupine 
qv.ills,  he  hesitated" 


THE  GRIZZLY 
KING 

A  ROMANCE  OF  THE  WILD 

BY 

JAMES  OLIVER  CURWOOD 

AUTHOR  OF  KAZAN,   Etc 


ILLUSTRATIONS  BY 

FRANK  B.  HOFFMAN 


*mm» 


NEW    YORK 

GROSSET    &     DUNLAP 

PUBLISHERS 


Copyright,  1915,  19 IF,  by 
James  Oliver  Curwood 

ALL  BIGHTS   RESERVED 


"      PRINTED  IN  THE  UNITED,  $tATE9 

AT 
"•TBW'CaUBCTR'v  hlti  T8.ES&,  GARDEN  CI'JY.  H.  Y» 


To 
MY  BOY 


1*J 


912707 


PREFACE 

IT  IS  with  something  like  a  confession  that  I  offer 
this  second  of  my  nature  books  to  the  public-^ 
a  confession,  and  a  hope;  the  confession  of 
one  who  for  years  hunted  and  killed  before  he  learned 
that  the  wild  offered  a  more  thrilling  sport  than 
slaughter — and  the  hope  that  what  I  have  written 
may  make  others  feel  and  understand  that  the 
greatest  thrill  of  the  hunt  is  not  in  killing,  but  in 
letting  live.  It  is  true  that  in  the  great  open  spaces 
one  must  kill  to  live;  one  must  have  meat,  and  meat 
is  life.  But  killing  for  food  is  not  the  lust  of  slaugh- 
ter; it  is  not  the  lust  which  always  recalls  to  me 
that  day  in  the  British  Columbia  mountains  when, 
in  less  than  two  hours,  I  killed  four  grizzlies  on  a 
mountain  slide — a  destruction  of  possibly  a  hundred 
and  twenty  years  of  life  in  a  hundred  and  twenty 
minutes.  And  that  is  only  one  instance  of  many  in 
which  I  now  regard  myself  as  having  been  almost  a 
criminal — for  killing  for  the  excitement  of  killing 

vii 


viii  PREFACE 

can  be  little  less  than  murder.  In  their  small  way 
my  animal  books  are  the  reparation  I  am  now  striv- 
ing to  make,  and  it  has  been  my  earnest  desire  to 
make  them  not  only  of  romantic  interest,  but  re- 
liable in  their  fact.  As  in  human  life,  there  are 
tragedy,  and  humour,  and  pathos  in  the  life  of  the 
wild;  there  are  facts  of  tremendous  interest,  real 
happenings  and  real  lives  to  be  written  about,  and 
very  small  necessity  for  one  to  draw  on  imagination. 
In  "Kazan"  I  tried  to  give  the  reader  a  picture  of 
my  years  of  experience  among  the  wild  sledge  dogs 
of  the  North.  In  "The  Grizzly"  I  have  scrupu- 
lously adhered  to  facts  as  I  have  found  them  in  the 
lives  of  the  wild  creatures  of  which  I  have  written. 
Little  Muskwa  was  with  me  all  that  summer  and 
autumn  in  the  Canadian  Rockies.  Pipoonaskoos  is 
buried  in  the  Firepan  Range  country,  with  a  slab 
over  his  head,  just  like  a  white  man.  The  two 
grizzly  cubs  we  dug  out  on  the  Athabasca  are  dead. 
And  Thor  still  lives,  for  his  range  is  in  a  country 
where  no  hunters  go — and  when  at  last  the  oppor- 
tunity came  we  did  not  kill  him.  This  year  (in 
July  of  1916)  I  am  going  back  into  the  country  of 
Thor  and  Muskwa.    I  think  I  would  know  Thor  if 


PREFACE  ix 

I  saw  him  again,  for  he  was  a  monster  full-grown. 
But  in  two  years  Muskwa  had  grown  from  cub- 
hood  into  full  bearhood.  And  yet  I  believe  that 
Muskwa  would  know  me  should  we  chance  to  meet 
again.  I  like  to  think  that  he  has  not  forgotten  the 
sugar,  and  the  scores  of  times  he  cuddled  up  close  to 
me  at  night,  and  the  hunts  we  had  together  after 
roots  and  berries,  and  the  sham  fights  with  which 
we  amused  ourselves  so  often  in  camp.  But,  after 
all,  perhaps  he  would  not  forgive  me  for  that  last 
day  when  we  ran  away  from  him  so  hard — leaving 
him  alone  to  his  freedom  in  the  mountains. 

James  Oliver  Curwood. 
Owosso,  Michigan, 
May  5, 1916. 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

*As  Thor  had  more  than  once  come  into  con- 
tact with  porcupine  quills,  he  hesitated." 

Frontispiece 

FACING  PAGB 

"  Like  the  wind  Thor  bore  down  on  the  flank 
of  the  caribou,  swung  a  little  to  one  side, 
and  then  without  any  apparent  effort — still 
like  a  huge  ball — he  bounded  in  and  upward, 
and  the  short  race  was  done."       ....     62 

'They  headed  up  the  creek-bottom,  bending 
over  from  their  saddles  to  look  at  every 
strip  of  sand  they  passed  for  tracks.  They 
had  not  gone  a  quarter  of  a  mile  when  Bruce 
gave  a  sudden  exclamation  and  stopped."  .     78 

•'Come  on!'  he  cried.  'The  black's  dead! 
If  we  hustle  we  can  get  our  grizzly!' "    .     .    102 


THE  GRIZZLY  KING 


THE  GRIZZLY  KING 

CHAPTER  ONE 

WITH  the  silence  and  immobility  of  a  great 
reddish-tinted  rock,  Thor  stood  for  many 
minutes  looking  out  over  his  domain.  He 
could  not  see  far,  for,  like  all  grizzlies,  his  eyes  were 
small  and  far  apart,  and  his  vision  was  bad.  At  a 
distance  of  a  third  or  a  half  a  mile  he  could  make  out 
a  goat  or  a  mountain  sheep,  but  beyond  that  his 
world  was  a  vast  sun-filled  or  night-darkened  mystery 
through  which  he  ranged  mostly  by  the  guidance  of 
sound  and  smell. 

It  was  the  sense  of  smell  that  held  him  still  and 
motionless  now.  Up  out  of  the  valley  a  scent  had 
come  to  his  nostrils  that  he  had  never  smelled  before. 
It  was  something  that  did  not  belong  there,  and 
it  stirred  him  strangely.  Vainly  his  slow-working 
brute  mind  struggled  to  comprehend  it.  It  was  not 
caribou,  for  he  had  killed  many  caribou;  it  was  not 

s 


4  THE  GRIZZLY 

goat;  ft  was  not  sheep;  and  it  was  not  the  smell  of 
the  fat  iJid  Jazy  whistlers  sunning  themselves  on  the 
rocks,  for  he  had  eaten  hundreds  of  whistlers.  It 
was  a  scent  that  did  not  enrage  him,  and  neither  did 
it  frighten  him.  He  was  curious,  and  yet  he  did 
not  go  down  to  seek  it  out.     Caution  held  him  back. 

If  Thor  could  have  seen  distinctly  for  a  mile,  or 
two  miles,  his  eyes  would  have  discovered  even  less 
than  the  wind  brought  to  him  from  down  the  valley. 
He  stood  at  the  edge  of  a  little  plain,  with  the  valley 
an  eighth  of  a  mile  below  him,  and  the  break  ovei 
which  he  had  come  that  afternoon  an  eighth  of  a 
mile  above  him.  The  plain  was  very  much  like  a 
cup,  perhaps  an  acre  in  extent,  in  the  green  slope  of 
the  mountain.  It  was  covered  with  rich,  soft  grass 
and  June  flowers,  mountain  violets  and  patches  of 
forget-me-nots,  and  wild  asters  and  hyacinths,  and 
in  the  centre  of  it  was  a  fifty-foot  spatter  of  soft  mud 
which  Thor  visited  frequently  when  his  feet  became 
rock-sore. 

To  the  east  and  the  west  and  the  north  of  him 
spread  out  the  wonderful  panorama  of  the  Canadian 
Rockies,  softened  in  the  golden  sunshine  of  a  June 
afternoon. 


THE  GRIZZLY  5 

From  up  and  down  the  valley,  from  the  breaks 
between  the  peaks,  and  from  the  little  gullies  cleft 
in  shale  and  rock  that  crept  up  to  the  snow-line^ 
came  a  soft  and  droning  murmur.  It  was  the  music 
of  running  water.  That  music  was  always  in  the 
air,  for  the  rivers,  the  creeks,  and  the  tiny  streams 
gushing  down  from  the  snow  that  lay  eternally  up 
near  the  clouds  were  never  still. 

There  were  sweet  perfumes  as  well  as  music  in  the 
air.  June  and  July — the  last  of  spring  and  the  first 
}f  summer  in 'the  northern  mountains — were  com- 
mingling. The  earth  was  bursting  with  green;  the 
early  flowers  were  turning  the  sunny  slopes  into 
coloured  splashes  of  red  and  white  and  purple,  and 
everything  that  had  life  was  singing — the  fat  whis- 
tlers on  their  rocks,  the  pompous  little  gophers  on 
their  mounds,  the  big  bumblebees  that  buzzed  from 
flower  to  flower,  the  hawks  in  the  valley,  and  the 
eagles  over  the  peaks.  Even  Thor  was  singing  in 
his  way,  for  as  he  had  paddled  through  the  soft  mud 
a  few  minutes  before  he  had  rumbled  curiously  deep 
down  in  his  great  chest.  It  was  not  a  growl  or  a  roar 
or  a  snarl;  it  was  the  noise  he  made  when  he  was 
sontented.     It  was  his  song. 


6  THE  GRIZZLY 

And  now,  for  some  mysterious  reason,  there  had 
suddenly  come  a  change  in  this  wonderful  day  for 
him.  Motionless  he  still  sniffed  the  wind.  It 
puzzled  him.  It  disquieted  him  without  alarming 
him.  To  the  new  and  strange  smell  that  was  in  the 
air  he  was  as  keenly  sensitive  as  a  child's  tongue  to 
the  first  sharp  touch  of  a  drop  of  brandy.  And  then, 
at  last,  a  low  and  sullen  growl  came  like  a  distant 
roll  of  thunder  from  out  of  his  chest.  He  was  over- 
lord of  these  domains,  and  slowly  his  brain  told  him 
that  there  should  be  no  smell  which  he  could  not 
comprehend,  and  of  which  he  was  not  the  master. 

Thor  reared  up  slowly,  until  the  whole  nine  feet 
of  him  rested  on  his  haunches,  and  he  sat  like  a 
trained  dog,  with  his  great  forefeet,  heavy  with  mud, 
drooping  in  front  of  his  chest.  For  ten  years  he  had 
lived  in  these  mountains  and  never  had  he  smelled 
that  smell.  He  defied  it.  He  waited  for  it,  while 
it  came  stronger  and  nearer.  He  did  not  hide  him- 
self.    Clean-cut  and  unafraid,  he  stood  up. 

He  was  a  monster  in  size,  and  his  new  June  coat 
shone  a  golden  brown  in  the  sun.  His  forearms  were 
almost  as  large  as  a  man's  body;  the  three  largest 
of  his  five  knifelike  claws  were  five  and  a  half  inches 


THE  GRIZZLY  7 

«ong;  in  the  mud  his  feat  had  left  tracks  that  were 
fifteen  inches  from  tip  to  tip.  He  was  fat,  and  sleek, 
and  powerful.  His  eyes,  no  Larger  than  hickory 
nuts,  were  eight  inches  apart.  His  two  upper  fangs, 
sharp  as  stiletto  points,  were  as  long  as  a  man's 
thumb,  and  between  his  great  jaws  he  could  crush 
the  neck  of  a  caribou. 

Thor's  life  had  been  free  of  the  presence  of  man, 
and  he  was  not  ugly.  Like  most  grizzlies,  he  did  not 
kill  for  the  pleasure  of  killing.  Out  of  a  herd  he. 
would  take  one  caribou,  and  he  would  eat  that  cari- 
bou  to  the  marrow  in  the  last  bone.  He  was  a  peace- 
ful king.  He  had  one  law:  "Let  me  alone!"  he 
said,  and  the  voice  of  that  law  was  in  his  attitude  as 
he  sat  on  his  haunches  sniffing  the  strange  smell. 

In  his  massive  strength,  in  his  aloneness  and  his 
supremacy,  the  great  bear  was  like  the  mountains, 
unrivalled  in  the  valleys  as  they  were  in  the  skies. 
With  the  mountains,  he  had  come  down  out  of  the 
ages.  He  was  part  of  them.  The  history  of  his 
race  had  begun  and  was  dying  among  them,  and 
they  T^ere  alike  in  many  ways.  Until  this  day  he 
could  not  remember  when  anything  had  come  to 
question  his  might  and  his  right — except  those  of  his 


8  THE  GRIZZLY 

own  kind.  With  such  rivals  he  had  fought  fairly 
and  more  than  once  to  the  death.  He  was  ready  to 
fight  again,  if  it  came  to  a  question  of  sovereignty 
over  the  ranges  which  he  claimed  as  his  own.  Until 
he  was  beaten  he  was  dominator,  arbiter,  and  despot, 
if  he  chose  to  be.  He  was  dynast  of  the  rich  valleys 
and  the  green  slopes,  and  liege  lord  of  all  living  things 
about  him.  He  had  won  and  kept  these  things 
openly,  without  strategy  or  treachery.  He  was 
hated  and  he  was  feared,  but  he  was  without  hatred 
or  fear  of  his  own — and  he  was  honest.  Therefore 
he  waited  openly  for  the  strange  thing  that  was  com- 
ing to  him  from  down  the  valley. 

As  he  sat  on  his  haunches,  questioning  the  air  with 
his  keen  brown  nose,  something  within  him  was 
reaching  back  into  dim  and  bygone  generations. 
Never  before  had  he  caught  the  taint  that  was  in  his 
nostrils,  yet  now  that  it  came  to  him  it  did  not  seem 
altogether  new.  He  could  not  place  it.  He  could 
not  picture  it.  Yet  he  knew  that  it  was  a  menace 
and  a  threat. 

For  ten  minutes  he  sat  like  a  carven  thing  ^±i  nis 
haunches.  Then  the  wind  shifted,  and  the  scent 
grew  less  and  less,  until  it  was  gone  altogether. 


THE  GRIZZLY  9 

Thor's  flat  ears  lifted  a  little.  He  turned  his  huge 
head  slowly  so  that  his  eyes  took  in  the  green  slope 
and  the  tiny  plain.  He  easily  forgot  the  smell  now 
that  the  air  was  clear  and  sweet  again.  He  dropped 
on  his  four  feet,  and  resumed  his  gopher-hunting. 

There  was  something  of  humour  in  his  hunt.  Thor 
weighed  a  thousand  pounds;  a  mountain  gopher  is 
six  inches  long  and  weighs  six  ounces.  Yet  Thor 
would  dig  energetically  for  an  hour,  and  rejoice  at 
the  end  by  swallowing  the  fat  little  gopher  like  a 
pill;  it  was  his  bonne  bouche,  the  luscious  tidbit  in 
the  quest  of  which  he  spent  a  third  of  his  spring  and 
summer  digging. 

He  found  a  hole  located  to  his  satisfaction  and 
began  throwing  out  the  earth  like  a  huge  dog  after 
a  rat.  He  was  on  the  crest  of  the  slope.  Once  or 
twice  during  the  next  half-hour  he  lifted  his  head* 
but  he  was  no  longer  disturbed  by  the  strange  smell 
that  had  come  to  him  with  the  wind. 


CHAPTER  TWO 

A  MILE  down  the  valley  Jim  Langdon  stopped 
his  horse  where  the  spruce  and  balsam  tim- 
ber thinned  out  at  the  mouth  of  a  coulee, 
looked  ahead  of  him  for  a  breathless  moment  or  two, 
and  then  with  an  audible  gasp  of  pleasure  swung  his 
right  leg  over  so  that  his  knee  crooked  restfully  about 
the  horn  of  his  saddle,  and  waited. 

Two*  or  three  hundred  yards  behind  him,  still 
buried  in  the  timber,  Otto  *was  having  trouble 
with  Dishpan,  a  contumacious  pack-mare.  Langdon 
grinned  happily  as  he  listened  to  the  other's  vocifer- 
ations, which  threatened  Dishpan  with  every  known 
form  of  torture  and  punishment,  from  instant  dis- 
embowelment  to  the  more  merciful  end  of  losing  he* 
brain  through  the  medium  of  a  club.  He  grinned 
because  Otto's  vocabulary  descriptive  of  terrible 
things  always  impending  over  the  heads  of  his  sleek 
and  utterly  heedless  pack-horses  was  one  of  his  chief 
joys.    He  knew  that  if  Dishpan  should  elect  to  turn 

10 


THE  GRIZZLY  II 

somersaults  while  diamond-hitched  under  her  pack, 
big,  good-natured  Bruce  Otto  would  do  nothing 
more  than  make  the  welkin  ring  with  his  terribly 
blood-curdling  protest. 

One  after  another  the  six  horses  of  their  outfit  ap- 
peared out  of  the  timber,  and  last  of  all  rode  the 
mountain  man.  He  was  gathered  like  a  partly 
released  spring  in  his  saddle,  an  attitude  born  of 
years  in  the  mountains,  and  because  of  a  certain 
difficulty  he  had  in  distributing  gracefully  his  six- 
foot-two-inch  length  of  flesh  and  bone  astride  a 
mountain  cayuse. 

Upon  his  appearance  Langdon  dismounted,  and 
turned  his  eyes  again  up  the  valley.  The  stubbly 
blond  beard  on  his  face  did  not  conceal  the  deep  tan 
painted  there  by  weeks  of  exposure  in  the  mountains; 
he  had  opened  his  shirt  at  the  throat,  exposing  a  neck 
darkened  by  sun  and  wind;  his  eyes  were  of  a  keen, 
searching  blue-gray,  and  they  quested  the  country 
ahead  of  him  now  with  the  joyous  intentness  of  the 
hunter  and  the  adventurer. 

Langdon  was  thirty-five.  A  part  of  his  life  he 
spent  in  the  wild  places;  the  other  part  he  spent  in 
writing  about  the  things  he  found  there.    His  com* 


12  THE  GRIZZLY 

p anion  was  five  years  his  junior  in  age,  but  had  the 
better  of  him  by  six  inches  in  length  of  anatomy,  if 
those  additional  inches  could  be  called  an  advantage. 
Bruce  thought  they  were  not.  "The  devil  of  it  is  I 
ain't  done  growin'  yet!"  he  often  explained. 

He  rode  up  now  and  unlimbered  himself.  Lang- 
don  pointed  ahead. 

u  Did  you  ever  see  anything  to  beat  that?  "  he  asked. 

"Fine  country,"  agreed  Bruce.  "Mighty  good 
place  to  camp,  too,  Jim.  There  ought  to  be  caribou 
in  this  range,  an'  bear.  We  need  some  fresh  meat. 
Gimme  a  match,  will  you?" 

It  had  come  to  be  a  habit  with  them  to  light  both 
their  pipes  with  one  match  when  possible.  Thej; 
performed  this  ceremony  now  while  viewing  the 
situation.  As  he  puffed  the  first  luxurious  cloud  of 
smoke  from  his  bulldog,  Langdon  nodded  toward  the 
timber  from  which  they  had  just  come. 

"Fine  place  for  our  tepee,"  he  said.  "Dry  wood, 
running  water,  and  the  first  good  balsam  we've 
struck  in  a  week  for  our  beds.  We  can  hobble  the 
horses  in  that  little  open  plain  we  crossed  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  back.  I  saw  plenty  of  buffalo  grass  and  a 
lot  of  wild  timothy." 


THE  GRIZZLY  13 

He  looked  at  his  watch. 

"It's  only  three  o'clock.  We  might  go  on.  But 
— what  do  you  say?  Shall  we  stick  for  a  day  or  two, 
and  see  what  this  country  looks  like?" 

"Looks  good  to  me,"  said  Bruce. 

He  sat  down  as  he  spoke,  with  his  back  to  a  rock, 
and  over  his  knee  he  levelled  a  long  brass  telescope. 
From  his  saddle  Langdon  unslung  a  binocular  glass 
imported  from  Paris.  The  telescope  was  a  relic  of 
the  Civil  War.  Together,  their  shoulders  touching 
as  they  steadied  themselves  against  the  rock,  they 
studied  the  rolling  slopes  and  the  green  slides  of  the 
mountains  ahead  of  them. 

They  were  in  the  Big  Game  country,  and  what 
Langdon  called  the  Unknown.  So  far  as  he  and 
Bruce  Otto  could  discover,  no  other  white  man  had 
ever  preceded  them.  It  was  a  country  shut  in  by 
tremendous  ranges,  through  which  it  had  taken  them 
twenty  days  of  sweating  toil  to  make  a  hundred  miles. 

That  afternoon  they  had  crossed  the  summit  of 
the  Great  Divide  that  split  the  skies  north  and  south, 
and  through  their  glasses  they  were  looking  now 
upon  the  first  green  slopes  and  wonderful  peaks  of 
the  Firepan  Mountains.    To  the  northward — and 


14  THE  GRIZZLY 

they  had  been  travelling  north — was  the  Skeena 
River;  on  the  west  and  south  were  the  Babine 
range  and  waterways;  eastward,  over  the  Divide, 
was  the  Driftwood,  and  still  farther  eastward  the 
Ominica  range  and  the  tributaries  of  the  Finley. 
They  had  started  from  civilization  on  the  tenth  day 
of  May  and  this  was  the  thirtieth  of  June. 

As  Langdon  looked  through  his  glasses  he  be- 
lieved that  at  last  they  had  reached  the  bourne  of 
their  desires.  For  nearly  two  months  they  had 
worked  to  get  beyond  the  trails  of  men,  and  they 
had  succeeded.  There  were  no  hunters  here.  There 
were  no  prospectors.  The  valley  ahead'of  them  was 
filled  with  golden  promise,  and  as  he  sought  out  the 
first  of  its  mystery  and  its  wonder  his  heart  was 
filled  with  the  deep  and  satisfying  joy  which  only 
men  like  Langdon  can  fully  understand.  To  his 
friend  and  comrade,  Bruce  Otto,  with  whom  he  had 
gone  five  times  into  the  North  country,  all  mountains 
and  all  valleys  were  very  much  alike;  he  was  born 
among  them,  he  had  lived  among  them  all  his  life, 
and  he  would  probably  die  among  them. 

It  was  Bruce  who  gave  him  a  sudden  sharp  nudge 
with  his  elbow. 


THE  GRIZZLY  15 

,CI  see  the  heads  of  three  caribou  crossing  a  dip 
about  a  mile  and  a  half  up  the  valley,"  he  said,  with- 
out taking  his  eyes  from  the  telescope. 

"And  I  see  a  Nanny  and  her  kid  on  the  black 
shale  of  that  first  mountain  to  the  right,"  replied 
Langdon.  "And,  by  George,  there's  a  Sky  Pilot 
looking  down  on  her  from  a  crag  a  thousand  feet 
above  the  shale!  He's  got  a  beard  a  foot  long. 
Bruce,  I'll  bet  we've  struck  a  regular  Garden  of 
Eden!" 

"Looks  it,"  vouchsafed  Bruce,  coiling  up  his  long 
legs  to  get  a  better  rest  for  his  telescope.  "If  this 
ain't  a  sheep  an'  bear  country,  I've  made  the  worst 
guess  I  ever  made  in  my  life." 

For  five  minutes  they  looked,  without  a  word 
passing  between  them.  Behind  them  their  horses 
were  nibbling  hungrily  in  the  thick,  rich  grass.  The 
sound  of  the  many  waters  in  the  mountains  droned 
m.  their  ears,  and  the  valley  seemed  sleeping  in  a 
sea  of  sunshine.  Langdon  could  think  of  nothing 
more  comparable  than  that — slumber.  The  valley 
was  like  a  great,  comfortable,  happy  cat,  and  the 
sounds  they  heard,  all  commingling  in  that  pleasing 
drone,   was  its  drowsy  purring.    He  was  focussing 


16  THE  GRIZZLY 

his  glass  a  little  more  closely  on  the  goat  standing 
watchfully  on  its  crag,  when  Otto  spoke  again. 

"I  see  a  grizzly  as  big  as  a  house!"  he  announced 
quietly. 

Bruce  seldom  allowed  his  equanimity  to  be  dis-. 
turbed,  except  by  the  pack-horses.  Thrilling  new& 
like  this  he  always  introduced  as  unconcernedly  as 
though  speaking  of  a  bunch  of  violets. 

Langdon  sat  up  with  a  jerk. 

"Where?"  he  demanded. 

He  leaned  over  to  get  the  range  of  the  other's 
telescope,  every  nerve  in  his  body  suddenly  aquiver. 

"See  that  slope  on  the  second  shoulder,  just  be^ 
yond  the  ravine  over  there?"  said  Bruce,  with  one 
eye  closed  and  the  other  still  glued  to  the  telescope. 
"He's  halfway  up,  digging  out  a  gopher." 

Langdon  focussed  his  glass  on  the  slope,  and  a 
moment  later  an  excited  gasp  came  from  him. 

"See  'im?"  asked  Bruce. 

"The  glass  has  pulled  him  within  four  feet  of  my 
nose,"  replied  Langdon.  "Bruce,  that's  the  biggest 
grizzly  in  the  Rocky  Mountains! " 

"If  he  ain't,  he's  his  twin  brother,"  chuckled  the 
packer,  without  moving  a  muscle.     "He  beats  your 


THE  GRIZZLY  17 

eight-footer  by  a  dozen  inches,  Jimmy!  An'" — - 
he  paused  at  this  psychological  moment  to  pull  a 
plug  of  black  MacDonald  from  his  pocket  and  bite 
off  a  mouthful,  without  taking  the  telescope  from 
his  eye — "an'  the  wind  is  in  our  favour  an'  he's  as 
busy  as  a  flea!"  he  finished. 

Otto  unwound  himself  and  rose  to  his  feet,  and 
Langdon  jumped  up  briskly.  In  such  situations 
as  this  there  was  a  mutual  understanding  between 
them  which  made  words  unnecessary.  They  led  the 
eight  horses  back  into  the  edge  of  the  timber  and 
tied  them  there,  took  their  rifles  from  the  leather 
holsters,  and  each  was  careful  to  put  a  sixth  cartridge 
in  the  chamber  of  his  weapon.  Then  for  a  matter 
of  two  minutes  they  both  studied  the  slope  and  its 
approaches  with  their  naked  eyes. 

"We  can  slip  up  the  ravine,"  suggested  Langdon. 

Bruce  nodded. 

"I  reckon  it's  a  three-hundred-yard  shot  from 
there,"  he  said.  "  It's  the  best  we  can  do.  He'd  get 
our  wind  if  we  went  below  'im.  If  it  was  a  couple 
o'  hours  earlier " 

"We'd  climb  over  the  mountain  and  come  down 
on  him  from  above!"  exclaimed  Langdon,  laughiing. 


18  THE  GRIZZLY 

"Bruce,  you're  the  most  senseless  idiot  on  the  face 
of  the  globe  when  it  comes  to  climbing  mountains! 
You'd  climb  over  Hardesty  or  Geikie  to  shoot  a  goat 
from  above,  even  though  you  could  get  him  from  the 
valley  without  any  work  at  all.  I'm  glad  it  isn't 
morning.     We  can  get  that  bear  from  the  ravine ! " 

"Mebbe,"  said  Bruce,  and  they  started. 

They  walked  openly  over  the  green,  flower- 
carpeted  meadows  ahead  of  them.  Until  they  came 
within  at  least  half  a  mile  of  the  grizzly  there  was  no 
danger  of  him  seeing  them.  The  wind  had  shifted, 
and  was  almost  in  their  faces.  Their  swift  walk 
changed  to  a  dog-trot,  and  they  swung  in  nearer 
to  the  slope,  so  that  for  fifteen  minutes  a  huge 
knoll  concealed  the  grizzly.  In  another  ten  minutes 
they  came  to  the  ravine,  a  narrow,  rock-littered 
and  precipitous  gully  worn  in  the  mountainside  by 
centuries  of  spring  floods  gushing  down  from  the 
snow-peaks  above.  Here  they  made  cautious  ob* 
servation. 

The  big  grizzly  was  perhaps  six  hundred  yards  up 
the  slope,  and  pretty  close  to  three  hundred  yards 
from  the  nearest  point  reached  by  the  gully. 

Bruce  spoke  in  a  whisper  now. 


THE  GRIZZLY  19 

"You  go  up  an'  do  the  stalkin',  Jimmy,"  he  said. 
"That  bear's  goin'  to  do  one  of  two  things  if  you 
miss  or  only  wound  'im — one  o'  three,  mebbe: 
he's  going  to  investigate  you,  or  he's  going  up  over 
the  break,  or  he's  comin'  down  in  the  valley — this 
way.  We  can't  keep  'im  from  goin'  over  the  break, 
an'  if  he  tackles  you — just  summerset  it  down  the 
gully.  You  can  beat  'im  out.  He's  most  apt  to 
come  this  way  if  you  don't  get  'im,  so  I'll  wait  here. 
Good  luck  to  you,  Jimmy! " 

With  this  he  went  out  and  crouched  behind  a  rock, 
where  he  could  keep  an  eye  on  the  grizzly,  and 
Langdon  began  to  climb  quietly  up  the  boulder- 
strewn  gully. 


CHAPTER  THREE 

OF  ALL  the  living  creatures  in  this  sleeping 
valley,  Thor  was  the  busiest.  He  was  a 
bear  with  individuality,  you  might  say .  Like 
some  people,  he  went  to  bed  very  early;  he  be- 
gan to  get  sleepy  in  October,  and  turned  in  for  his 
long  nap  in  November.  He  slept  until  April,  and 
usually  was  a  week  or  ten  days  behind  other  bears 
in  waking.  He  was  a  sound  sleeper,  and  when 
awake  he  was  very  wide  awake.  During  April 
and  May  he  permitted  himself  to  doze  consider- 
ably in  the  warmth  of  sunny  rocks,  but  from  the 
beginning  of  June  until  the  middle  of  September  he 
closed  his  eyes  in  real  sleep  just  about  four  hours  out 
of  every  twelve. 

He  was  very  busy  as  Langdon  began  his  cautious 
climb  up  the  gully.  He  had  succeeded  in  getting 
his  gopher,  a  fat,  aldermanic  old  patriarch  who  had 
disappeared  in  one  crunch  and  a  gulp,  and  he  was 
Fjow  absorbed  in  finishing  off  his  day's  feast  wifch 


THE  GRIZZLY  21 

an  occasional  fat,  white  grub  and  a  few  sour  ants 
captured  from  under  stones  which  he  turned  over 
with  his  paw. 

In  his  search  after  these  delicacies  Thor  used  his 
right  paw  in  turning  over  the  rocks.  Ninety-nine 
out  of  every  hundred  bears — probably  a  hundred 
and  ninety-nine  out  of  every  two  hundred — are 
left-handed;  Thor  was  right-handed.  This  gave 
him  an  advantage  in  fighting,  in  fishing,  and  in 
stalking  meat,  for  a  grizzly's  right  arm  is  longer  than 
his  left — so  much  longer  that  if  he  lost  his  sixth 
sense  of  orientation  he  would  be  constantly  travelling 
in  a  circle. 

In  his  quest  Thor  was  headed  for  the  gully.  His 
huge  head  hung  close  to  the  ground.  At  short  dis- 
tances his  vision  was  microscopic  in  its  keenness; 
his  olfactory  nerves  were  so  sensitive  that  he  could 
catch  one  of  the  big  rock-ants  with  his  eyes  shut. 

He  would  choose  the  flat  rocks  mostly.  His  huge 
right  paw,  with  its  long  claws,  was  as  clever  as  a  human 
hand.  The  stone  lifted,  a  sniff  or  two,  a  lick  of  his 
hot,  flat  tongue,  and  he  ambled  on  to  the  next. 

He  took  this  work  with  tremendous  seriousness, 
much  like  an  elephant  hunting  for  peanuts  hidden 


22  THE  GRIZZLY 

in  a  bale  of  hay.  He  saw  no  humour  in  the  opera- 
tion. As  a  matter  of  fact,  Nature  had  not  intended 
there  should  be  any  humour  about  it.  Thor's  time 
was  more  or  less  valueless,  and  during  the  course  of 
a  summer  he  absorbed  in  his  system  a  good  many 
hundred  thousand  sour  ants,  sweet  grubs,  and  juicy 
insects  of  various  kinds,  not  to  mention  a  host  of 
gophers  and  still  tinier  rock-rabbits.  These  small 
things  all  added  to  the  huge  rolls  of  fat  which  it 
was  necessary  for  him  to  store  up  for  that  "absorptive 
consumption"  which  kept  him  alive  during  his  long 
winter  sleep.  This  was  why  Nature  had  made  his 
little  greenish-brown  eyes  twin  microscopes,  infallible 
at  distances  of  a  few  feet,  and  almost  worthless  at  a 
thousand  yards. 

As  he  was  about  to  turn  over  a  fresh  stone  Thor 
paused  in  his  operations.  For  a  full  minute  he  stood 
nearly  motionless.  Then  his  head  swung  slowly, 
his  nose  close  to  the  ground.  Very  faintly  he  had 
caught  an  exceedingly  pleasing  odour.  It  was  so 
faint  that  he  was  afraid  of  losing  it  if  he  moved. 
So  he  stood  until  he  was  sure  of  himself,  then  he 
swung  his  huge  shoulders  around  and  descended  two 
yards  down  the  slope,  swinging  his  head  slowly  from 


THE  GRIZZLY  23 

right  to  left,  and  sniffing.  The  scent  grew  stronger. 
Another  two  yards  down  the  slope  he  found  it  very 
strong  under  a  rock.  It  was  a  big  rock,  and  weighed 
probably  two  Lundred  pounds.  Thor  dragged  it 
aside  with  his  cne  right  hand  as  if  it  were  no  more 
than  a  pebble. 

Instantly  there  was  a  wild  and  protesting  chatter, 
and  a  tiny  striped  rock-rabbit,  very  much  like  a 
chipmunk,  darted  away  just  as  Thor's  left  hand 
came  down  with  a  smash  that  would  have  broken 
the  neck  of  a  caribou. 

It  was  not  the  scent  of  the  rock-rabbit,  but  the 
savour  of  what  the  rock-rabbit  had  stored  under 
the  stone  that  had  attracted  Thor.  And  this  booty 
still  remained — a  half-pint  of  ground-nuts  piled 
carefully  in  a  little  hollow  lined  with  moss.  They 
were  not  really  nuts.  They  were  more  like  diminu- 
tive potatoes,  about  the  size  of  cherries,  and  very 
much  like  potatoes  in  appearance.  They  were 
starchy  and  sweet,  and  fattening.  Thor  enjoyed 
them  immensely,  rumbling  in  that  curious  satisfied 
way  deep  down  in  his  chest  as  he  feasted.  And 
then  he  resumed  his  quest. 

He  did  not  hear  Langdon  as  the  hunter  came 


24  THE  GRIZZLY 

nearer  and  nearer  up  the  broken  gully.  He  did  not 
smell  him,  for  the  wind  was  fatally  wrong.  He  had 
forgotten  the  noxious  man-smell  that  had  disturbed 
and  irritated  him  an  hour  before,  He  was  quite 
happy;  he  was  good-humoured;  he  was  fat  and 
sleek.  An  irritable,  cross-grained,  and  quarrelsome 
bear  is  always  thin.  The  true  hunter  knows  him 
as  soon  as  he  sets  eyes  on  him.  He  is  like  the  rogue 
elephant. 

Thor  continued  his  food-seeking,  edging  still 
closer  to  the  gully.  He  was  within  a  hundred  and 
fifty  yards  of  it  when  a  sound  suddenly  brought  him 
alert.  Langdon,  in  his  effort  to  creep  up  the  steep 
side  of  the  gully  for  a  shot,  had  accidentally  loosened 
a  rock.  It  went  crashing  down  the  ravine,  starting 
other  stones  that  followed  in  a  noisy  clatter.  At 
the  foot  of  the  coulee,  six  hundred  yards  down,  Bruce 
swore  softly  under  his  breath.  He  saw  Thor  sit  up. 
At  that  distance  he  was  going  to  shoot  if  the  bear 
made  for  the  break. 

For  thirty  seconds  Thor  sat  on  his  haunches. 
Then  he  started  for  the  ravine,  ambling  slowly  and 
deliberately.  Langdon,  panting  and  inwardly  curs- 
ing at  his  ill  luck,  struggled  to  make  the  last  ten 


THE  GRIZZLY  25 

feet  to  the  edge  of  the  slope.  He  heard  Bruce  yell, 
but  he  could  not  make  out  the  warning.  Hands 
and  feet  he  dug  fiercely  into  shale  and  rock  as  he 
fought  tc  make  those  last  three  or  four  yards  as 
quickly  as  possible. 

He  was  almost  to  the  top  when  he  paused  for  a 
moment  and  turned  his  eyes  upward.  His  heart 
went  into  his  throat,  and  he  started.  For  ten 
seconds  he  could  not  move.  Directly  over  him 
was  a  monster  head  and  a  huge  hulk  of  shoulder. 
Thor  was  looking  down  on  him,  his  jaws  agape,  his 
finger-long  fangs  snarling,  his  eyes  burning  with  a 
greenish-red  fire. 

In  that  moment  Thor  saw  his  first  of  man.  His 
great  lungs  were  filled  with  the  hot  smell  of  him,  and 
suddenly  he  turned  away  from  that  smell  as  if  from 
a  plague.  With  his  rifle  half  under  him  Langdon 
had  had  no  opportunity  to  shoot.  Wildly  he  clam- 
bered up  the  remaining  few  feet.  The  shale  and 
stones  slipped  and  slid  under  him.  It  was  a  matter 
of  sixty  seconds  before  he  pulled  himself  over  the 
top. 

Thor  was  a  hundred  yards  away,  speeding  in  a 
TolKng,  ball-like  motion  toward  the  break.    From 


26  THE  GRIZZLY 

the  foot  of  the  coulee  came  the  sharp  crack  of  Otto's 
rifle.  Langdon  squatted  quickly,  raising  his  left 
knee  for  a  rest,  and  at  a  hundred  and  fifty  yards 
began  firing. 

Sometimes  it  happens  that  an  hour — a  minute — 
changes  the  destiny  of  man;  and  the  ten  seconds 
which  followed  swiftly  after  that  first  shot  from  the 
foot  of  the  coulee  changed  Thor.  He  had  got  his 
fill  of  the  man-smell.  He  had  seen  man.  And  now 
he  felt  him. 

It  was  as  if  one  of  the  lightning  flashes  he  had 
often  seen  splitting  the  dark  skies  had  descended 
upon  him  and  had  entered  his  flesh  like  a  red-hot 
knife;  and  with  that  first  burning  agony  of  pain 
came  the  strange,  echoing  roar  of  the  rifles.  He 
had  turned  up  the  slope  when  the  bullet  struck  him 
in  the  fore-shoulder,  mushrooming  its  deadly  soft 
point  against  his  tough  hide,  and  tearing  a  hole 
through  his  flesh — but  without  touching  the  bone. 
He  was  two  hundred  yards  from  the  ravine  when  it 
hit;  he  was  nearer  three  hundred  when  the  stinging 
fire  seared  him  again,  this  time  in  his  flank. 

Neither  shot  had  staggered  his  huge  bulk,  twenty 
such  shots  would  not  have  killed  him.    But  the 


THE  GRIZZLY  27 

second  stopped  him,  and  he  turned  with  a  roar  of 
rage  that  was  like  the  bellowing  of  a  mad  bull — 
a  snarling,  thunderous  cry  of  wrath  that  could  have 
been  heard  a  quarter  of  a  mile  down  the  valley. 

Bruce  heard  it  as  he  fired  his  sixth  unavailing 
shot  at  seven  hundred  yards.  Langdon  was  re 
loading.  For  fifteen  seconds  Thor  offered  himself 
openly,  roaring  his  defiance,  challenging  the  enemy 
he  could  no  longer  see;  and  then  at  Langdon's 
seventh  shot,  a  whiplash  of  fire  raked  his  back,  and 
in  strange  dread  of  this  lightning  which  he  could 
not  fight,  Thor  continued  up  over  the  break.  He 
heard  other  rifle  shots,  which  were  like  a  new  kind 
of  thunder.  But  he  was  not  hit  again.  Painfully 
he  began  the  descent  into  the  next  valley. 

Thor  knew  that  he  was  hurt,  but  he  could  not 
comprehend  that  hurt.  Once  in  the  descent  he 
paused  for  a  few  moments,  and  a  little  pool  of  blood 
dripped  upon  the  ground  under  his  foreleg.  He 
sniffed  at  it  suspiciously  and  wonderingly. 

He  swung  eastward,  and  a  little  later  he  caught  a 
fresh  taint  of  the  man-smell  in  the  air.  The  wind 
was  bringing  it  to  him  now,  and  in  spite  of  the  fact 
that  he  wanted  to  lie  down  and  nurse  his  wound 


28  THE  GRIZZLY 

he  ambled  on  a  little  faster,  for  lie  had  learned  one 
thing  that  he  would  never  forget:  the  man-smell  and 
his  hurt  had  come  together. 

He  reached  the  bottoms,  and  buried  himself  in 
the  thick  timber;  and  then,  crossing  this  timber,  he 
came  to  a  creek.  Perhaps  a  hundred  times  he  had 
travelled  up  and  down  this  creek.  It  was  the  main 
trail  that  led  from  one  half  of  his  range  to  the  other. 

Instinctively  he  always  took  this  trail  when  he 
was  hurt  or  when  he  was  sick,  and  also  when  he  was 
ready  to  den  up  for  the  winter.  There  was  one 
chief  reason  for  this:  he  was  born  in  the  almost  im- 
penetrable fastnesses  at  the  head  of  the  creek,  and 
his  cubhood  had  been  spent  amid  its  brambles  of 
wild  currants  and  soap  berries  and  its  rich  red 
ground  carpets  of  kinnikinic.  It  was  home.  In  it 
he  was  alone.  It  was  the  one  part  of  his  domain 
that  he  held  inviolate  from  all  other  bears.  He 
tolerated  other  bears — blacks  and  grizzlies — on  the 
wider  and  sunnier  slopes  of  his  range  just  so  long 
as  they  moved  on  when  he  approached.  They  might 
seek  food  there,  and  nap  in  the  sun-pools,  and  live 
in  quiet  and  peace  if  they  did  not  defy  his  suzerainty. 

Thor  did  not  drive  other  bears  from  his  range. 


THE  GRIZZLY  29 

except  when  it  was  necessary  to  demonstrate  again 
that  he  was  High  Mogul.  This  happened  occasion- 
ally, and  there  was  a  fight.  And  always  after  a 
fight  Thor  came  into  this  valley  and  went  up  the 
creek  to  cure  his  wounds. 

He  made  his  way  more  slowly  than  usual  to-day. 
There  was  a  terrible  pain  in  his  fore-shoulder.  Now 
and  then  it  hurt  him  so  that  his  leg  doubled  up,  and 
he  stumbled.  Several  times  he  waded  shoulder- 
deep  into  pools  and  let  the  cold  water  run  over  his 
wounds.  Gradually  they  stopped  bleeding.  But  the 
pain  grew  worse. 

Thor's  best  friend  in  such  an  emergency  was  a 
clay  wallow.  This  was  the  second  reason  why  he 
always  took  this  trail  when  he  was  sick  or  hurt.  It 
led  to  the  clay  wallow.  And  the  clay  wallow  was 
his  doctor. 

The  sun  was  setting  before  he  reached  the  wallow. 
His  jaws  hung  open  a  little.  His  great  head  drooped 
lower.  He  had  lost  a  great  deal  of  blood.  He  was 
tired,  and  his  shoulder  hurt  him  so  badly  that  he 
wanted  to  tear  with  his  teeth  at  the  strange  fire 
that  was  consuming  it. 

The  clay  wallow  was  twenty  or  thirty  feet  in 


SO  THE  GRIZZLY 

diameter,  and  hollowed  into  a  little  shallow  pool 
in  the  centre.  It  was  a  soft,  cool,  golden-coloured 
clay,  and  Thor  waded  into  it  to  his  armpits.  Then 
he  rolled  over  gently  on  his  wounded  side.  The 
clay  touched  his  hurt  like  a  cooling  salve.  It  sealed 
the  cut,  and  Thor  gave  a  great  heaving  gasp  of 
relief.  For  a  long  time  he  lay  in  that  soft  bed  of 
clay.  The  sun  went  down,  darkness  came,  and 
the  wonderful  stars  filled  the  sky.  And  still  Thor 
lay  there,  nursing  that  first  hurt  of  man. 


CHAPTER  FOUR 

IN  THE  edge  of  the  balsam  and  spruce  Langdon 
and  Otto  sat  smoking  their  pipes  after  supper, 
with  the  glowing  embers  of  a  fire  at  their  feet. 
The  night  air  in  these  higher  altitudes  of  the  moun- 
tains had  grown  chilly,  and  Bruce  rose  long  enough 
to  throw  a  fresh  armful  of  dry  spruce  on  the  coals. 
Then  he  stretched  out  his  long  form  again,  with  his 
head  and  shoulders  bolstered  comfortably  against  the 
butt  of  a  tree,  and  for  the  fiftieth  time  he  chuckled. 

"Chuckle  an*  be  blasted,"  growled  Langdon.  "I 
tell  you  I  hit  him  twice,  Bruce — twice  anyway; 
and  I  was  at  a  devilish  disadvantage!" 

"'Specially  when  'e  was  lookin'  down  an'  grinnin' 
in  your  face,"  retorted  Bruce,  who  had  enjoyed 
hugely  his  comrade's  ill  luck.  "Jimmy,  at  that 
distance  you  should  a'most  ha'  killed  'im  with  a 
rock!" 

"My  gun  was  under  me,"  explained  Langdon  for 
the  twentieth  time. 

81 


32  THE  GRIZZLY 

"  W'ich  ain't  just  the  proper  place  for  a  gun  to  be 
when  yo'r  hunting  a  grizzly,"  reminded  Bruce. 

"The  gully  was  confoundedly  steep.  I  had  to  dig 
in  with  both  feet  and  my  fingers.  If  it  had  been  any 
steeper  I  would  have  used  my  teeth." 

Langdon  sat  up,  knocked  the  ash  out  of  the  bowl 
of  his  pipe,  and  reloaded  it  with  fresh  tobacco. 

"Bruce,  that's  the  biggest  grizzly  in  the  Rocky 
Mountains !" 

"He'd  'a'  made  a  fine  rug  in  your  den,  Jimmy— 
if  yo'r  gun  hadn't  'appened  to  'ave  been  under 
you." 

"And  I'm  going  to  have  him  in  my  den  before  I 
finish,"  declared  Langdon.  "I've  made  up  my 
mind.  We'll  make  a  permanent  camp  here.  I'm 
going  to  get  that  grizzly  if  it  takes  all  summer.  I'd 
rather  have  him  than  any  other  ten  bears  in  the 
Firepan  Range.  He  was  a  nine-footer  if  an  inch. 
His  head  was  as  big  as  a  bushel  basket,  and  the  hair 
on  his  shoulders  was  four  inches  long.  I  don't 
kno.v  thflf  Vm  mrty  I  didn't  kill  him.  He's  hit, 
and  he'll  surely  fight  say.  There'll  be  a  lot  of  fuu 
in  getting  him." 

"There  will  that,"  agreed  Bruce,  "'specially  * 


THE  GRIZZLY  33 

you  meet  'im  again  during  the  next  week  or  so, 
while  he's  still  sore  from  the  bullets.  Better  not 
have  the  gun  under  you  then,  Jimmy! " 

"What  do  you  say  to  making  this  a  permanent 
camp?" 

"Couldn't  be  better.  Plenty  of  fresh  meat,  good 
grazing,  and  fine  water."  After  a  moment  he  added: 
"He  was  hit  pretty  hard.  He  was  bleedin'  bad  at 
the  summit." 

In  the  firelight  Langdon  began  cleaning  his 
rifle. 

"You  think  he  may  clear  out — leave  the  coun- 
try?" 

Bruce  emitted  a  grunt  of  disgust. 

"Clear  out?  Run  away?  Mebbe  he  would  if 
he  was  a  black.  But  he's  a  grizzly,  and  the  boss 
of  this  country.  He  may  fight  shy  of  this  valley 
for  a  while,  but  you  can  bet  he  ain't  goin'  to  emigrate. 
The  harder  you  hit  a  grizzly  the  madder  he  gets, 
an'  if  you  keep  on  hittin'  'im  he  keeps  on  gettin' 
madder,  until  he  drops  dead.  If  you  want  that 
bear  bad  enough  we  can  surely  get  him." 

"I  do,"  Langdon  reiterated  with  emphasis.  "He'll 
smash  record  measurements  or  I  miss  my  guess. 


34  THE  GRIZZLY 

I  want  him,  and  I  want  him  bad,  Bruce.  Da 
you  think  we'll  be  able  to  trail  him  in  the  morn- 
ing?" 

Bruce  shook  his  head. 

"It  won't  be  a  matter  of  trailing,"  he  said.  "It's 
just  simply  hunt.  After  a  grizzly  has  been  hit  he 
keeps  movin'.  He  won't  go  out  of  his  range,  an' 
neither  is  he  going  to  show  himself  on  the  open  slopes 
like  that  up  there.  Metoosin  ought  to  be  along 
with  the  dogs  inside  of  three  or  four  days,  an'  when 
we  get  that  bunch  of  Airedales  in  action,  there'll  be 
some  fun." 

Langdon  sighted  at  the  fire  through  the  polished 
barrel  of  his  rifle,  and  said  doubtfully: 

"I've  been  having  my  doubts  about  Metoosin 
for  a  week  back.  We've  come  through  some  mighty 
rough  country." 

"That  old  Indian  could  follow  our  trail  if  we 
travelled  on  rock,"  declared  Bruce  confidently. 
"He'll  be  here  inside  o'  three  days,  barring  the  dogs 
don't  run  their  fool  heads  into  too  many  porcupines. 
An*  when  they  come" — he  rose  and  stretched  his 
gaunt  frame — "we'll  have  the  biggest  time  we  ever 
had  in  our  lives.     I'm  just  guessin'  these  mount'ins 


THE  GRIZZLY  35 

are  so  full  o'  bear  that  them  ten  dogs  will  all  be  mas- 
sacreed  within  a  week.     Want  to  bet?" 

Langdon  closed  his  rifle  with  a  snap. 

"I  only  want  one  bear,"  he  said,  ignoring  the 
challenge,  "and  I  have  an  idea  we'll  get  him  to- 
morrow. You're  the  bear  specialist  of  the  outfit, 
Bruce,  but  I  think  he  was  too  hard  hit  to  travel 
far." 

They  had  made  two  beds  of  soft  balsam  boughs 
near  the  fire,  and  Langdon  now  followed  his  com- 
panion's example,  and  began  spreading  his  blankets. 
It  had  been  a  hard  day,  and  within  five  minutes 
after  stretching  himself  out  he  was  asleep. 

He  was  still  asleep  when  Bruce  rolled  out  from 
under  his  blanket  at  dawn.  Without  rousing  Lang- 
don the  young  packer  slipped  on  his  boots  and  waded 
back  a  quarter  of  a  mile  through  the  heavy  dew  to 
round  up  the  horses.  When  he  returned  he  brought 
Dishpan  and  their  saddle-horses  with  him.  By  that 
time  Langdon  was  up,  and  starting  a  fire. 

Langdon  frequently  reminded  himself  that  such 
mornings  as  this  had  made  him  disappoint  the 
doctors  and  rob  the  grave.  Just  eight  years  ago 
this  June  he  had  come  into  the  North  for  the  first 


S6  THE  GRIZZLY 

time,  thin-chested  and  with  a  bad  lung.  "You 
can  go  if  you  insist,  young  man,"  one  of  the  doctors 
had  told  him,  "but  you're  going  to  your  own  funeral." 
And  now  he  had  a  five-inch  expansion  and  was  as 
tough  as  a  knot.  The  first  rose-tints  of  the  sun 
were  creeping  over  the  mountain-tops;  the  air  was 
filled  with  the  sweetness  of  flowers,  and  dew,  and 
growing  things,  and  his  lungs  drew  in  deep  breaths  of 
oxygen  laden  with  the  tonic  and  perfume  of  balsam. 

He  was  more  demonstrative  than  his  companion 
in  the  joyousness  of  this  wild  life.  It  made  him 
want  to  shout,  and  sing,  and  whistle.  He  restrained 
himself  this  morning.  The  thrill  of  the  hunt  was 
in  his  blood. 

While  Otto  saddled  the  horses  Langdon  made  the 
bannock.  He  had  become  an  expert  at  what  he 
called  "wild-bread"  baking,  and  his  method  pos- 
sessed the  double  efficiency  of  saving  both  waste 
and  time. 

He  opened  one  of  the  heavy  canvas  flour  sacks, 
made  a  hollow  in  the  flour  with  his  two  doubled 
fists,  partly  filled  this  hollow  with  a  pint  of  water  and 
half  a  cupful  of  caribou  grease,  added  a  tablespoonf ul 
of  baking  powder  and  a  three-finger  pinch  of  salt, 


THE  GRIZZLY  37 

and  began  to  mix.  Inside  of  five  minutes  he  had 
the  bannock  loaves  in  the  big  tin  reflector,  and  half 
an  hour  later  the  sheep  steaks  were  fried,  the  potatoes 
done,  and  the  bannock  baked  to  a  golden  brown. 

The  sun  was  just  showing  its  face  in  the  east  when 
they  trailed  out  of  camp.  They  rode  across  the 
valley,  but  walked  up  the  slope,  the  horses  following 
obediently  in  their  footsteps. 

It  was  not  difficult  to  pick  up  Thor's  trail.  Where 
he  had  paused  to  snarl  back  defiance  at  his  enemies 
there  was  a  big  red  spatter  on  the  ground;  from  this 
point  to  the  summit  they  followed  a  crimson  thread 
of  blood.  Three  times  in  descending  into  the  other 
valley  they  found  where  Thor  had  stopped,  and 
each  time  they  saw  where  a  pool  of  blood  had  soaked 
into  the  earth  or  run  over  the  rock. 

They  passed  through  the  timber  and  came  to  the 
creek,  and  here,  in  a  strip  of  firm  black  sand,  Thor's 
footprints  brought  them  to  a  pause.  Bruce  stared. 
An  exclamation  of  amazement  came  from  Langdon, 
and  without  a  word  having  passed  between  them  he 
drew  out  his  pocket-tape  and  knelt  beside  one  of 
the  tracks. 

"Fifteen  and  a  quarter  inches!"  he  gasped. 


38  THE  GRIZZLY 

"Measure  another/'  said  Bruce 

"Fifteen  and— a  half!" 

Bruce  looked  up  the  gorge. 

"The  biggest  I  ever  see  was  fourteen  an*  a  half," 
he  said,  and  there  was  a  touch  of  awe  in  his  voice, 
"He  was  shot  up  the  Athabasca  an*  he's  stood  as 
the  biggest  grizzly  ever  killed  in  British  Columbia, 
Jimmy,  this  one  beats  9im  /" 

They  went  on,  and  measured  the  tracks  again 
at  the  edge  of  the  first  pool  where  Thor  had  bathed 
his  wounds.  There  was  almost  no  variation  in  the 
measurements.  Only  occasionally  after  this  did 
they  find  spots  of  blood.  It  was  ten  o'clock  when 
they  came  to  the  clay  wallow  and  saw  where  Thor 
had  made  his  bed  in  it. 

"He  was  pretty  sick,"  said  Bruce  in  a  low  voice. 
"He  was  here  most  all  night." 

Moved  by  the  same  impulse  and  the  same  thought, 
they  looked  ahead  of  them.  Half  a  mile  farther 
on  the  mountains  closed  in  until  the  gorge  between 
them  was  dark  and  sunless. 

"He  was  pretty  sick,"  repeated  Bruce,  still  look- 
ing ahead.  "Mebbe  we'd  better  tie  the  horses  an* 
s;o  on  alone.     It's  possible — he's  in  there." 


THE  GRIZZLY  39 

They  tied  the  horses  to  scrub  cedars,  and  relieved 
Dishpan  of  her  pack. 

Then,  with  their  rifles  in  readiness,  and  eyes  and 
ears  alert,  they  went  on  cautiously  into  the  silence 
and  gloom  of  the  gorge. 


CHAPTER  FIVE 

THOR  had  gone  up  the  gorge  at  daybreak. 
He  was  stiff  when  he  rose  from  the  clay 
wallow,  but  a  good  deal  of  the  burning  and 
pain  had  gone  from  his  wound.  It  still  hurt  him, 
but  not  as  it  had  hurt  him  the  preceding  evening. 
His  discomfort  was  not  all  in  his  shoulde*,  and  it 
was  n<yl  In  any  one  place  in  particular.  He  was 
sick,  and  had  he  been  human  hr  would  have  ^een 
in  bed  with  a.  thermometer  under  his  tongue  and  a 
doctor  noidmg  his  pulse.  He  walked  up  the  gorge 
slowly  and  laggingly.  An  indefatigable  seeker  of 
food,  he  no  longer  thought  of  food.  He  was  not 
hungry,  and  he  did  not  want  to  eat. 

With  his  hot  tongue  he  lapped  frequently  at  the 
cool  water  of  the  creek,  and  even  more  frequently 
he  turned  half  about  and  sniffed  the  wind.  He 
knew  that  the  man-smell  and  the  strange  thunder 
and  the  still  more  inexplicable  lightning  lay  behind 

40 


THE  GRIZZLE  41 

Inm.  All  night  he  had  been  on  guard,  and  he  was 
cautious  now. 

For  a  particular  hurt  Thor  knew  of  no  particular 
remedy.  He  was  not  a  botanist  in  the  finer  sense 
of  the  word,  but  in  creating  him  the  Spirit  of  the 
Wild  had  ordained  that  he  should  be  his  own  phy- 
sician. As  a  cat  seeks  catnip,  so  Thor  sought  cer- 
tain things  when  he  was  not  feeling  well.  All  bitter- 
ness is  not  quinine,  but  certainly  bitter  things  were 
Thor's  remedies,  and  as  he  made  his  way  up  the 
gorge  his  nose  hung  close  to  the  ground,  and  he 
sniffed  in  the  low  copses  and  thick  bush-tangles  he 
passed. 

He  came  to  a  small  green  spot  covered  with 
Mnnikinic,  a  ground  plant  two  inches  high  which 
bore  red  berries  as  big  as  a  small  pea.  They  were 
not  red  now,  but  green;  bitter  as  gall,  and  contained 
an  astringent  tonic  called  uvaursi.     Thor  ate  them. 

After  that  he  found  soap  berries  growing  on 
bushes  that  looked  very  much  like  currant  bushes. 
The  fruit  was  already  larger  than  currants,  and 
turning  pink.  Indians  ate  these  berries  when  they 
had  fever,  and  Thor  gathered  half  a  pint  before  he 
went  on.    They,  too,  were  bitter. 


42  THE  GRIZZLY 

He  nosed  the  trees,  and  found  at  last  what  he 
wanted.  It  was  a  jackpine,  and  at  several  places 
within  his  reach  the  fresh  pitch  was  oozing.  A  bear 
seldom  passes  a  bleeding  jackpine.  It  is  his  chief 
tonic,  and  Thor  licked  the  fresh  pitch  with  his 
tongue.  In  this  way  he  absorbed  not  only  turpen- 
tine, but  also,  in  a  roundabout  sort  of  way,  a  whole 
pharmacopoeia  of  medicines  made  from  this  partic- 
ular element. 

By  the  time  he  arrived  at  the  end  of  the  gorge 
Thor's  stomach  was  a  fairly  well-stocked  drug  em- 
porium. Among  other  things  he  had  eaten  perhaps 
half  a  quart  of  spruce  and  balsam  needles.  When 
a  dog  is  sick  he  eats  grass;  when  a  bear  is  sick  he 
eats  pine  or  balsam  needles  if  he  can  get  them.  Also 
he  pads  his  stomach  and  intestines  with  them  in 
the  last  hour  before  denning  himself  away  for  the 
winter. 

The  sun  was  not  yet  up  when  Thor  came  to  the 
end  of  the  gorge,  and  stood  for  a  few  moments  at 
the  mouth  of  a  low  cave  that  reached  back  into  the 
wall  of  the  mountain.  How  far  his  memory  went 
back  it  would  be  impossible  to  say;  but  in  the  whole 
world,  as  he  knew  it,  this  cave  was  home.    It  was 


THE  GRIZZLY  43 

not  more  than  four  feet  high,  and  twice  as  wide,  but 
it  was  many  times  as  deep  and  was  carpeted  with  a 
soft^white  floor  of  sand.  In  some  past  age  a  little 
stream  had  trickled  out  of  this  cavern,  and  the  far 
end  of  it  made  a  comfortable  bedroom  for  a  sleeping 
bear  when  the  temperature  was  fifty  degrees  below 
zero. 

Ten  years  before  Thor's  mother  had  gone  in 
there  to  sleep  through  the  winter,  and  when  she 
waddled  out  to  get  her  first  glimpse  of  spring  three 
little  cubs  waddled  with  her.  Thor  was  one  of 
them.  He  was  still  half  blind,  for  it  is  five  weeks 
after  a  grizzly  cub  is  born  before  he  can  see;  and 
there  was  not  much  hair  on  his  body,  for  a  grizzly 
cub  is  born  as  naked  as  a  human  baby.  His  eyes 
open  and  his  hair  begins  to  grow  at  just  about  the 
same  time.  Since  then  Thor  had  denned  eight 
times  in  that  cavern  home. 

He  wanted  to  go  in  now.  He  wanted  to  lie  down 
in  the  far  end  of  it  and  wait  until  he  felt  better.  For 
perhaps  two  or  three  minutes  he  hesitated,  sniffing 
yearningly  at  the  door  to  his  cave,  and  then  feeling 
the  wind  from  down  the  gorge.  Something  toid  him 
that  he  should  go  on. 


44  THE  GRIZZLY 

To  the  westward  there  was  a  sloping  ascent  up 
out  of  the  gorge  to  the  summit,  and  Thor  climbed 
this.  The  sun  was  well  up  when  he  reached  the 
top,  and  for  a  little  while  he  rested  again  and  looked 
down  on  the  other  half  of  his  domain. 

Even  more  wonderful  was  this  valley  than  the 
one  into  which  Bruce  and  Langdon  had  ridden  a 
few  hours  before.  From  range  to  range  it  was  a 
good  two  miles  in  width,  and  in  the  opposite  direc- 
tions it  stretched  away  in  a  great  rolling  panorama 
of  gold  and  green  and  black.  From  where  Thor 
stood  it  was  like  an  immense  park.  Green  slopes 
reached  almost  to  the  summits  of  the  mountains, 
and  to  a  point  halfway  up  these  slopes — the  last 
timber-line — clumps  of  spruce  and  balsam  trees 
were  scattered  over  the  green  as  if  set  there  by  the 
hands  of  men.  Some  of  these  timber-patches  were 
no  larger  than  the  decorative  clumps  in  a  city  park, 
and  others  covered  acres  and  tens  of  acres;  and 
at  the  foot  of  the  slopes  on  either  side,  like  decorative 
fringes,  were  thin  and  unbroken  lines  of  forest.  Be- 
tween these  two  lines  of  forest  lay  the  open  valley 
of  soft  and  undulating  meadow,  dotted  with  ita 
purplish  bosks  of  buffalo  willow  and  mountain  sage, 


THE  GRIZZLY  45 

its  green  coppices  of  wild-rose  and  thorn,  and  its 
clumps  of  trees.  In  the  hollow  of  the  valley  ran  a 
stream. 

Thor  descended  about  four  hundred  yards  from 
where  he  stood,  and  then  turned  northward  along 
the  green  slope,  so  that  he  was  travelling  from  patch 
to  patch  of  the  parklike  timber,  a  hundred  and  fifty 
or  two  hundred  yards  above  the  fringe  of  forest. 
To  this  height,  midway  between  the  meadows  in  the 
valley  and  the  first  shale  and  bare  rock  of  the  peaks, 
he  came  most  frequently  on  his  small  game  hunts. 

Like  fat  woodchucks  the  whistlers  were  already 
beginning  to  sun  themselves  on  their  rocks.  Their 
long,  soft,  elusive  whistlings,  pleasant  to  hear  above 
the  drone  of  mountain  waters,  filled  the  air  with  a 
musical  cadence.  Now  and  then  one  would  whistle 
shrilly  and  warningly  close  at  hand,  and  then  flatten 
himself  out  on  his  rock  as  the  big  bear  passed,  and 
for  a  few  moments  no  whistling  would  break  upon  the 
gentle  purring  of  the  valley. 

But  Thor  was  giving  no  thought  to  the  hunt  this 
morning.  Twice  he  encountered  porcupines,  the 
sweetest  of  all  morsels  to  him,  and  passed  them  un- 
noticed; the  warm,  sleeping  smell  of  a  caribou  came 


46  THE  GRIZZLY 

iiot  and  fresh  from  a  thicket,  but  he  did  not  approacl 
the  thicket  to  investigate;  out  of  a  coulee,  narrow 
and  dark,  like  a  black  ditch,  he  caught  the  scent 
of  a  badger.  For  two  hours  he  travelled  steadily 
northward  along  the  half-crest  of  the  slopes  before 
he  struck  down  through  the  timber  to  the  stream. 

The  clay  adhering  to  his  wound  was  beginning  to 
harden,  and  again  he  waded  shoulder-deep  into  a 
pool,  and  stood  there  for  several  minutes.  The 
water  washed  most  of  the  clay  away.  For  another 
two  hours  he  followed  the  creek,  drinking  frequently. 
Then  came  the  sapoos  oowin — six  hours  after  he  had 
left  the  clay  wallow.  The  kinnikinic  berries,  the 
soap  berries,  the  jackpine  pitch,  the  spruce  and  balsam 
needles,  and  the  water  he  had  drunk,  all  mixed 
in  his  stomach  in  one  big  compelling  dose,  brought 
it  about — and  Thor  felt  tremendously  better,  so 
much  better  that  for  the  first  time  he  turned 
and  growled  back  in  the  direction  of  his  enemies. 
His  shoulder  still  hurt  him,  but  his  sickness  way 
gone. 

For  many  minutes  after  the  sapoos  oowin  he  stood 
without  moving,  and  many  times  he  growled*  The 
soariing  rumble  deep  in  his  chest  had  a  new  mean* 


THE  GRIZZLY  47 

ing  now.  Until  last  night  and  to-day  he  had  not 
known  a  real  hatred.  He  had  fought  other  bears, 
but  the  fighting  rage  was  not  hate.  It  came  quickly, 
and  passed  away  quickly;  it  left  no  growing  ugliness; 
he  licked  the  wounds  of  a  clawed  enemy,  and  was 
quite  frequently  happy  while  he  nursed  them.  But 
this  new  thing  that  was  born  in  him  was  different. 

With  an  unforgetable  and  ferocious  hatred  he 
hated  the  thing  that  had  hurt  him.  He  hated  the 
man-smell;  he  hated  the  strange,  white-faced  thing 
he  had  seen  clinging  to  the  side  of  the  gorge;  and 
his  hatred  included  everything  associated  with  them. 
It  was  a  hatred  born  of  instinct  and  roused  sharply 
from  its  long  slumber  by  experience. 

Without  ever  having  seen  or  smelled  man  before, 
he  knew  that  man  was  his  deadliest  enemy,  and  to 
be  feared  more  than  all  the  wild  things  in  the  moun- 
tains. He  would  fight  the  biggest  grizzly.  He 
Would  turn  on  the  fiercest  pack  of  wolves.  He  would 
brave  flood  and  fire  without  flinching.  But  before 
man  he  must  flee!  He  must  hide!  He  must  con- 
stantly guard  himself  in  the  peaks  and  on  the  plains 
with  eyes  and  ears  and  nose! 

Why  he  sensed  this,  why  he  understood  all  at 


*8  THE  GRIZZLY 

once  that  a  creature  had  come  into  his  world,  a 
pigmy  in  size,  yet  more  to  be  dreaded  than  any  foe 
he  had  ever  known,  was  a  miracle  which  nature 
alone  could  explain.  It  was  a  hearkening  back  in 
the  age-dimmed  mental  fabric  of  Thor's  race  to  the 
earliest  days  of  man — man,  first  of  all,  with  the 
club;  man  with  the  spear  hardened  in  fire;  man 
with  the  flint-tipped  arrow;  man  with  the  trap  and 
the  deadfall,  and,  lastly,  man  with  the  gun.  Through 
all  the  ages  man  had  been  his  one  and  only  master. 
Nature  had  impressed  it  upon  him — had  been  im- 
pressing it  upon  him  through  a  hundred  or  a  thou, 
sand  or  ten  thousand  generations. 

And  now  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  that  dormant 
part  of  his  instinct  leaped  into  warning  wakefulness, 
and  he  understood.  He  hated  man,  and  hereafter 
he  would  hate  everything  that  bore  the  man-smell. 
And  with  this  hate  there  was  also  born  in  him  for 
the  first  time  fear.  Had  man  never  pushed  Thor 
and  his  kind  to  the  death  the  world  would  not  have 
known  him  as  Ursus  Horribilis  the  Terrible. 

Thor  still  followed  the  creek,  nosing  along  slowly 
and  lumberingly,  but  very  steadily;  his  head  and 
neck  bent  low,  his  huge  rear  quarters  rising  and 


THE  GRIZZLY  49 

Falling  in  that  rolling  motion  peculiar  to  all  bears, 
and  especially  so  of  the  grizzly.  His  long  claws 
click-click-clicked  on  the  stones;  he  crunched  heavily 
in  the  gravel;  in  soft  sand  he  left  enormous  foot- 
prints. 

That  part  of  the  valley  which  he  was  now  enter- 
ing held  a  particular  significance  for  Thor,  and  he 
began  to  loiter,  pausing  often  to  sniff  the  air  on  all 
sides  of  him.  He  was  not  a  monogamist,  but  for 
many  mating  seasons  past  he  had  come  to  find  his 
Iskwao  in  this  wonderful  sweep  of  meadow  and 
plain  between  the  two  ranges.  He  could  always  ex- 
pect her  in  July,  waiting  for  him  or  seeking  him  with 
that  strange  savage  longing  of  motherhood  in  her 
breast.  She  was  a  splendid  grizzly  who  came  from 
the  western  ranges  when  the  spirit  of  mating  days 
called;  big,  and  strong,  and  of  a  beautiful  golden- 
brown  colour,  so  that  the  children  of  Thor  and  his 
Iskwao  were  the  finest  young  grizzlies  in  all  the 
mountains.  The  mother  took  them  back  with  her 
unborn,  and  they  opened  their  eyes  and  lived  and 
fought  in  the  valleys  and  on  the  slopes  far  to  the 
west.  If  in  later  years  Thor  ever  chased  his  own 
children  out  of  his  hunting  grounds,  or  whipped  them 


50  THE  GRIZZLY 

in  a  fight,  Nature  kindly  blinded  him  to  the  fact* 
He  was  like  most  grouchy  old  bachelors:  he  did  not 
like  small  folk.  He  tolerated  a  little  cub  as  a  cross- 
grained  old  woman-hater  might  have  tolerated  a 
pink  baby;  but  he  wasn't  as  cruel  as  Punch,  for 
he  had  never  killed  a  cub.  He  had  cuffed  them 
soundly  whenever  they  had  dared  to  come  within 
reach  of  him,  but  always  with  the  flat,  soft  palm 
of  his  paw,  and  with  just  enough  force  behind  it  to 
send  them  keeling  over  and  over  like  little  round 
fluffy  balls. 

This  was  Thor's  only  expression  of  displeasure 
when  a  strange  mother-bear  invaded  his  range  with 
her  cubs.  In  other  ways  he  was  quite  chivalrous* 
He  would  not  drive  the  mother-bear  and  her  cubs 
away,  and  he  would  not  fight  with  her,  no  matter 
how  shrewish  or  unpleasant  she  was.  Even  if  he 
found  them  eating  at  one  of  his  kills,  he  would  do 
nothing  more  than  give  the  cubs  a  sound  cuffing. 

All  this  is  somewhat  necessary  to  show  with  what 
sudden  and  violent  agitation  Thor  caught  a  certain 
warm,  close  «mell  as  he  came  around  the  end  of 
a  mass  of  huge  boulders.  He  stopped,  turned  his 
head,  and  swore  in  his  low,  growling  way.     Six  feet 


THE  GRIZZLY  51 

away  from  him,  grovelling  flat  in  a  patch  of  white 
sand,  wriggling  and  shaking  for  all  the  world  like  a 
half-frightened  puppy  that  had  not  yet  made  up  its 
mind  whether  it  had  met  a  friend  or  an  enemy,  was  a 
lone  bear  cub.  It  was  not  more  than  three  months 
old — altogether  too  young  to  be  away  from  its 
mother;  and  it  had  a  sharp  little  tan  face  and  a  white 
spot  on  its  baby  breast  which  marked  it  as  a  member 
of  the  black  bear  family,  and  not  a  grizzly. 

The  cub  was  trying  as  hard  as  it  could  to  say,  "I 
am  lost,  strayed,  or  stolen;  I'm  hungry,  and  I've 
got  a  porcupine  quill  in  my  foot,"  but  in  spite  of 
that,  with  another  ominous  growl,  Thor  began  to 
look  about  the  rocks  for  the  mother.  She  was  not 
in  sight,  and  neither  could  he  smell  her,  two  facts 
which  turned  his  great  head  again  toward  the  cub. 

Muskwa — an  Indian  would  have  called  the  cub 
that — had  crawled  a  foot  or  two  nearer  on  his  little 
belly.  He  greeted  Thor's  second  inspection  with  a 
genial  wriggling  which  carried  him  forward  another 
half  foot,  and  a  low  warning  rumbled  in  Thor's  chest. 
**  Don't  come  any  nearer,"  it  said  plainly  enough, 
^or  I'll  keel  you  over!" 

Muskwa  understood.    He  lay  as  if  dead,  his  nose 


52  THE  GRIZZLY 

and  paws  and  belly  flat  on  the  sand,  and  Thor  looked 
about  him  again.  When  his  eyes  returned  to 
Muskwa,  the  cub  was  within  three  feet  of  him* 
squirming  flat  in  the  sand  and  whimpering  softly. 
Thor  lifted  his  right  paw  four  inches  from  the  ground. 
"Another  inch  and  I'll  give  you  a  welt!"  he  growled. 

Muskwa  wriggled  and  trembled;  he  licked  his 
lips  with  his  tiny  red  tongue,  half  in  fear  and  half 
pleading  for  mercy,  and  in  spite  of  Thor's  lifted  paw 
hie  wormed  his  way  another  six  inches  nearer. 

There  was  a  sort  of  rattle  instead  of  a  growl  in 
Thor's  throat.  His  heavy  hand  fell  to  the  sand.  A 
third  time  he  looked  about  and  sniffed  the  air;  he 
growled  again.  Any  crusty  old  bachelor  would  have 
understood  that  growl.  "Now  where  the  devil  is  the 
kid's  mother ! "  it  said. 

Something  happened  then.  Muskwa  had  crept 
close  to  Thor's  wounded  leg.  He  rose  up,  and  his 
nose  caught  the  scent  of  the  raw  wound.  Gently 
his  tongue  touched  it.  It  was  like  velvet — that 
tongue.  It  was  wonderfully  pleasant  to  feel,  and 
Thor  stood  there  for  many  moments,  making  neither 
movement  nor  sound  while  the  cub  licked  his  wound. 
Then  he  lowered  his  great  head.    He  sniffed  the 


THE  GRIZZLY  53 

soft  little  ball  of  friendship  that  had  come  to  him. 
Muskwa  whined  in  a  motherless  way.  Thor  growled, 
but  more  softly  now.  It  was  no  longer  a  threat. 
The  heat  of  his  great  tongue  fell  once  on  the  cub'* 
face. 

"Come  on!"  he  said,  and  resumed  his  journey 
into  the  north. 

And  close  at  his  heels  followed  the  motherless 
tittle  tan-faced  cub. 


CHAPTER  SIX 

THE  creek  which  Thor  was  following  was  $ 
tributary  of  the  Babine,  and  he  was  headed 
pretty  nearly  straight  for  the  Skeena.  As 
he  was  travelling  upstream  the  country  was  becom- 
ing higher  and  rougher.  He  had  come  perhaps 
seven  or  eight  miles  from  the  summit  of  the  divide 
when  he  found  Muskwa.  From  this  point  the  slopes 
began  to  assume  a  different  aspect.  They  were 
cut  up  by  dark,  narrow  gullies,  and  broken  by  enor- 
mous masses  of  rocks,  jagged  cliffs,  and  steep  slides 
of  shale.  The  creek  became  noisier  and  more  dif- 
ficult to  follow. 

Thor  was  now  entering  one  of  his  strongholds: 
a  region  which  contained  a  thousand  hiding-placest 
if  he  had  wanted  to  hide;  a  wild,  up  torn  country 
where  it  was  not  difficult  for  him  to  kill  big  game, 
and  where  he  was  certain  that  the  man-smell  would 
not  follow  him. 

For  half  an  hour  after  leaving  the  mass  of  rocks 

54 


THE  GRIZZLY  55 

where  he  had  encountered  Muskwa,  Thor  lumbered 
on  as  if  utterly  oblivious  of  the  fact  that  the  cub 
was  following.  But  he  could  hear  him  and  smell 
him. 

Muskwa  was  having  a  hard  time  of  it.  His  fat 
little  body  and  his  fat  little  legs  were  unaccustomed 
to  this  sort  of  journeying,  but  he  was  a  game  young- 
ster, and  only  twice  did  he  whimper  in  that  half-hour 
— once  he  toppled  off  a  rock  into  the  edge  of  the 
ci-eek,  and  again  when  he  came  down  too  hard  on 
the  porcupine  quill  in  his  foot. 

At  last  Thor  abandoned  the  creek  and  turned  up  a 
deep  ravine,  which  he  followed  until  he  came  to  a 
dip,  or  plateau-like  plain,  halfway  up  a  broad  slope. 
Here  he  found  a  rock  on  the  sunny  side  of  a  grassy 
knoll,  and  stopped.  It  may  be  that  little  Muskwa's 
babyish  friendship,  the  caress  of  his  soft  little  red 
tongue  at  just  the  psychological  moment,  and  his 
perseverance  in  following  Thor  had  all  combined  to 
touch  a  responsive  chord  in  the  other's  big  brute 
heart,  for  after  nosing  about  restlessly  for  a  few 
moments  Thor  stretched  himself  out  beside  the 
rock.  Not  until  then  did  the  utterly  exhausted 
little  tan-faced  cub  He  down,  but  when  he  did  lie 


56  THE  GRIZZLY 

down  he  was  so  dead  tired  that  he  was  sound  asleep 
in  three  minutes. 

Twice  again  during  the  early  part  of  the  afternoon 
the  sapoos  oowin  worked  on  Thor,  and  he  began  to 
feel  hungry.  It  was  not  the  sort  of  hunger  to  be 
appeased  by  ants  and  grubs,  or  even  gophers  and 
whistlers.  It  may  be,  too,  that  he  guessed  how 
nearly  starved  little  Muskwa  was.  The  cub  had  not 
once  opened  his  eyes,  and  he  still  lay  in  his  warm 
pool  of  sunshine  when  Thor  made  up  his  mind  to  go  on 

It  was  about  three  o'clock,  a  particularly  quiet 
and  drowsy  part  of  a  late  June  or  early  July  day  hi 
a  northern  mountain  valley.  The  whistlers  had 
piped  until  they  were  tired,  and  lay  squat  out  in  the 
sunshine  on  their  rocks;  the  eagles  soared  so  high 
above  the  peaks  that  they  were  mere  dots;  the 
hawks,  with  meat-filled  crops,  had  disappeared  into 
the  timber;  goat  and  sheep  were  lying  down  far  up 
toward  the  sky-line,  and  if  there  were  any  grazing 
animals  near  they  were  well  fed  and  napping, 

The  mountain  hunter  knew  that  this  was  the 
hour  when  he  should  scan  the  green  slopes  and  the 
open  places  between  the  clumps  of  timber  for  bears? 
and  especially  for  flesh-eating  bears. 


THE  GRIZZLY  57 

It  was  Thor's  chief  prospecting  hour.  Instinct 
told  him  that  when  all  other  creatures  were  well  fed 
and  napping  he  could  move  more  openly  and  with 
less  fear  of  detection.  He  could  find  his  game,  and 
watch  it.  Occasionally  he  would  kill  a  goat  or  a 
sheep  or  a  caribou  in  broad  daylight,  for  over  short 
distances  he  could  run  faster  than  either  a  goat  or  a 
sheep,  and  as  fast  as  a  caribou.  But  chiefly  he 
killed  at  sunset  or  in  the  darkness  of  early  evening. 

Thor  rose  from  beside  the  rock  with  a  prodigious 
whoof  that  roused  Muskwa.  The  cub  got  upy 
blinked  at  Thor  and  then  at  the  sun,  and  shook 
himself  until  he  fell  down. 

Thor  eyed  the  black  and  tan  mite  a  bit  sourly* 
After  the  sapoos  ovwin  he  was  craving  red,  juicy 
flesh,  just  as  a  very  hungry  man  yearns  for  a  thick 
porterhouse  instead  of  lady  fingers  or  mayonnaise 
salad — flesh  and  plenty  of  it;  and  how  he  could 
hunt  down  and  kill  a  caribou  with  that  half -starved 
but  very  much  interested  cub  at  his  heels  puzzled 
him. 

Muskwa  himself  seemed  to  understand  and  answer 
the  question.  He  ran  a  dozen  yards  ahead  of  Thor, 
then  stopped  and  looked  back  impudently,  his  little 


58  THE  GRIZZLY 

ears  perkecf  forward,  and  with  the  look  in  his  fac6 
of  a  small  boy  proving  to  his  father  that  he  is  per- 
fectly qualified  to  go  on  his  first  rabbit  hunt. 

With  another  whoof  Thor  started  along  the  slope 
in  a  spurt  that  brought  him  up  to  Muskwa  im- 
mediately, and  with  a  sudden  sweep  of  his  right  paw 
he  sent  the  cub  rolling  a  dozen  feet  behind  him,  a 
manner  of  speech  that  said  plainly  enough,  "That's 
where  you  belong  if  you're  going  hunting  with  me!" 

Then  Thor  lumbered  slowly  on,  eyes  and  ears 
and  nostrils  keyed  for  the  hunt.  He  descended  until 
he  was  not  more  than  a  hundred  yards  above  the 
creek,  and  he  no  longer  sought  out  the  easiest  trail, 
but  the  rough  and  broken  places.  He  travelled 
slowly  and  in  a  zigzag  fashion,  stealing  cautiously 
around  great  masses  of  boulders,  sniffing  up  each 
coulee  that  he  came  to,  and  investigating  the  timber 
clumps  and  windfalls. 

At  one  time  he  would  be  so  high  up  that  he  was 
close  to  the  bare  shale,  and  again  so  low  down  that 
he  walked  in  the  sand  and  gravel  of  the  creek.  He 
caught  many  scents  in  the  wind,  but  none  that 
held  or  deeply  interested  him.  Once,  up  near  the 
shale*  he  smelled  goat;  but  he  never  went  above  the 


THE  GRIZZLY  59 

shale  for  meat.  Twice  he  smelled  sheep,  and  late 
in  the  afternoon  he  saw  a  big  ram  looking  down  on 
him  from  a  precipitous  crag  a  hundred  feet  above. 

Lower  down  his  nose  touched  the  trails  of  por- 
cupines, and  often  his  head  hung  over  the  footprints 
of  caribou  as  he  sniffed  the  air  ahead. 

There  were  other  bears  in  the  valley,  too.  Mostly 
these  had  travelled  along  the  creek-bottom,  showing 
they  were  blacks  or  cinnamons.  Once  Thor  struck 
the  scent  of  another  grizzly,  and  he  rumbled  ill* 
humouredly. 

Not  once  in  the  two  hours  after  they  left  the  sun* 
rock  did  Thor  pay  any  apparent  attention  to  Muskwa, 
who  was  growing  hungrier  and  weaker  as  the  day 
lengthened.  No  boy  that  ever  lived  was  gamer 
than  the  little  tan-faced  eub.  In  the  rough  places 
he  stumbled  and  fell  frequently;  up  places  that 
Thor  could  make  in  a  single  step  he  had  to  fight 
desperately  to  make  his  way;  three  times  Thor 
waded  through  the  creek  and  Muskwa  half  drowned 
himself  in  following;  he  was  battered  and  bruised 
and  wet  and  his  foot  hurt  him — but  he  followed. 
Sometimes  he  was  close  to  Thor,  and  at  others  he 
had  to  run  to  catch  up.    The  sun  was  setting  when 


60  THE  GRIZZLY 

Thor  at  last  found  game,  and  Muskwa  was  almost 
dead. 

He  did  not  know  why  Thor  flattened  his  huge  bulk 
suddenly  alongside  a  rock  at  the  edge  of  a  rough 
meadow,* from  which  they  could  look  down  into  a 
small  hollow.  He  wanted  to  whimper,  but  he 
was  afraid.  And  if  he  had  ever  wanted  his  mother 
at  any  time  in  his  short  life  he  wanted  her  now.  He 
could  not  understand  why  she  had  left  him  among 
the  rocks  and  had  never  come  back;  that  tragedy 
Langdon  and  Bruce  were  to  discover  a  little  later. 
And  he  could  not  understand  why  she  did  not  come 
to  him  now.  This  was  just  about  his  nursing  hour 
before  going  to  sleep  for  the  night,  for  he  was  a  March 
cub,  and,  according  to  the  most  approved  mother- 
bear  regulations,  should  have  had  milk  for  another 
month. 

He  was  what  Metoosin,  the  Indian,  would  have 
called  munoohow — that  is,  he  was  very  soft.  Being 
a  bear,  his  birth  had  not  been  like  that  of  other 
animals.  His  mother,  like  all  mother-bears  in  a 
cold  country,  had  brought  him  into  life  a  long  time 
before  she  had  finished  her  winter  nap  in  her  den. 
He  had  come  while  she  was  asleep.    For  a  month  or 


THE  GRIZZLY  61 

six  weeks  after  that,  while  he  was  still  blind  and 
naked,  she  had  given  him  milk,  while  she  herself 
neither  ate  nor  drank  nor  saw  the  light  of  day.  At 
the  end  of  those  six  weeks  she  had  gone  forth  with 
him  from  her  den  to  seek  the  first  mouthful  of  sus- 
tenance for  herself.  Not  more  than  another  six 
weeks  had  passed  since  then,  and  Muskwa  weighed 
about  twenty  pounds — that  is,  he  had  weighed 
twenty  pounds,  but  he  was  emptier  now  than  he 
had  ever  been  in  his  life,  and  probably  weighed  a 
little  less. 

Three  hundred  yards  below  Thor  was  a  clump  of 
balsams,  a  small  thick  patch  that  grew  close  to  the 
edge  of  the  miniature  lake  whose  water  crept  around 
the  farther  end  of  the  hollow.  In  that  clump  there 
was  a  caribou — perhaps  two  or  three.  Thor  knew 
that  as  surely  as  though  he  saw  them.  The  wenipow, 
or  "lying  down,"  smell  of  hoofed  game  was  as  dif- 
ferent from  the  nechisoo,  or  "grazing  smell,"  to  Thor 
as  day  from  night.  One  hung  elusively  in  the  air, 
like  the  faint  and  shifting  breath  of  a  passing  wo- 
man's scented  dress  and  hair;  the  other  came  hot 
and  heavy,  close  to  the  earth,  like  the  odour  of  a 
broken  bottle  of  perfume. 


62  THE  GRIZZLY 

Even  Muskwa  now  caught  the  scent  as  he  crept 
up  close  behind  the  big  grizzly  and  lay  down. 

For  fully  ten  minutes  Thor  did  not  move.  His 
•eyes  took  in  the  hollow,  the  edge  of  the  lake,  and  the 
approach  to  the  timber,  and  his  nose  gauged  the 
wind  as  accurately  as  the  pointing  of  a  compass. 
The  reason  he  remained  quiet  was  that  he  was 
almost  on  the  danger-line.  In  other  words,  the 
mountains  and  the  sudden  dip  had  formed  a  "split 
wind"  in  the  hollow,  and  had  Thor  appeared  fifty 
yards  above  where  he  now  crouched,  the  keen- 
scented  caribou  would  have  got  full  wind  of  him. 

With  his  little  ears  cocked  forward  and  a  new  gleam 
of  understanding  in  his  eyes,  Muskwa  now  looked 
upon  his  first  lesson  in  game-stalking.  Crouched 
so  low  that  he  seemed  to  be  travelling  on  his  belly, 
Thor  moved  slowly  and  noiselessly  toward  the  creek, 
the  huge  ruff  just  forward  of  his  shoulders  standing 
out  like  the  stiffened  spine  of  a  dog's  back.  Muskwa 
followed.  For  fully  a  hundred  yards  Thor  continued 
his  detour,  and  three  times  in  that  hundred  yards 
he  paused  to  sniff  in  the  direction  of  the  timber.  At 
last  he  was  satisfied.  The  wind  was  full  ha  his  face, 
and  it  was  rich  with  promise. 


"Like  the  wind  Thor  bore  down  on  the  flank  of  the  caribou, 
swung  a  little  to  one  side,  and  then  without  any  apparent  effort — 
still  like  a  huge  ball — he  bounded  in  and  upward,  and  the  short 
race  was  done'' 


THE  GRIZZLY  63 

He  began  to  advance,  in  a  slinking,  rolling,  rock- 
shouldered  motion,  taking  shorter  steps  now,  and 
with  every  muscle  in  his  great  body  ready  for  action, 
Within  two  minutes  he  reached  the  edge  of  the 
balsams,  and  there  he  paused  again.  The  crackling 
of  underbrush  came  distinctly.  The  caribou  were 
up,  but  they  were  not  alarmed.  They  were  going 
forth  to  drink  and  graze. 

Thor  moved  again,  parallel  to  the  sound.  This 
brought  him  quickly  to  the  edge  of  the  timber,  and 
there  he  stood,  concealed  by  foliage,  but  with  the 
lake  and  the  short  stretch  of  meadow  in  view.  A 
big  bull  caribou  came  out  first.  His  horns  were 
half  grown,  and  in  velvet.  A  two-year-old  followed* 
round  and  sleek  and  glistening  like  brown  velvet 
in  the  sunset.  For  two  minutes  the  bull  stood  alerts 
eyes,  ears,  and  nostrils  seeking  for  danger-signals; 
<it  his  heels  the  younger  animal  nibbled  less  sus- 
piciously at  the  grass.  Then  lowering  his  head 
until  his  antlers  swept  back  over  his  shoulders  the 
old  bull  started  slowly  toward  the  lake  for  his  even- 
ing drink.  The  two-year-old  followed — and  Thor 
came  out  softly  from  his  hiding-place. 

For  a  single  moment  he  seemed  to  gather  himself 


64  THE  GRIZZLY 

— and  then  he  started.  Fifty  feet  separated  him 
from  the  caribou.  He  had  covered  half  that  dis- 
tance like  a  huge  rolling  ball  when  the  animals  heard 
him.  They  were  off  like  arrows  sprung  from  the 
bow.  But  they  were  too  late.  It  would  have  taken 
a  swift  horse  to  beat  Thor  and  he  had  already  gained 
momentum. 

Like  the  wind  he  bore  down  on  the  flank  of  the 
two-year-old,  swung  a  little  to  one  side,  and  then 
without  any  apparent  effort — still  like  a  huge  ball — he 
bounded  in  and  upward,  and  the  short  race  was  done. 

His  huge  right  arm  swung  over  the  two-year- 
old's  shoulder,  and  as  they  went  down  his  left  paw 
gripped  the  caribou's  muzzle  like  a  huge  human  hand. 
Thor  fell  under,  as  he  always  planned  to  fall.  He 
did  not  hug  his  victim  to  death.  Just  once  he 
doubled  up  one  of  his  hind  legs,  and  when  it  went 
back  the  five  knives  it  carried  disembowelled  the 
caribou.  They  not  only  disembowelled  him,  but 
twisted  and  broke  his  ribs  as  though  they  were  of 
wood.  Then  Thor  got  up,  looked  around,  and  shook 
himself  with  a  rumbling  growl  which  might  have 
been  either  a  growl  of  triumph  or  an  invitation  foi 
Muskwa  to  come  to  the  feast. 


THE  GRIZZLY  65 

If  it  was  an  invitation,  the  little  tan-faced  cub 
did  not  wait  for  a  second.  For  the  first  time  he 
smelled  and  tasted  the  warm  blood  of  meat.  And 
this  smell  and  taste  had  come  at  the  psychological 
moment  in  his  life,  just  as  it  had  come  in  Thor's  life 
years  before.  All  grizzlies  are  not  killers  of  big 
game.  In  fact,  very  few  of  them  are.  Most  of 
them  are  chiefly  vegetarians,  with  a  meat  diet  of 
smaller  animals,  such  as  gophers,  whistling  marmots, 
and  porcupines.  Now  and  then  chance  makes  of  a 
grizzly  a  hunter  of  caribou,  goat,  sheep,  deer,  and 
even  moose.  Such  was  Thor.  And  such,  in  days 
to  come,  would  Muskwa  be,  even  though  he  was  a 
black  and  not  of  the  family  Ursus  Horribilis  Ord. 

For  an  hour  the  two  feasted,  not  in  the  ravenous 
way  of  hungry  dogs,  but  in  the  slow  and  satisfying 
manner  of  gourmets.  Muskwa,  flat  on  his  little 
paunch,  and  almost  between  Thor's  huge  forearms, 
lapped  up  the  blood  and  snarled  like  a  kitten  as  he 
ground  tender  flesh  between  his  tiny  teeth.  Thor, 
as  in  all  his  food-seeking,  hunted  first  for  the  tid- 
bits, though  the  sapoos  oowin  had  made  him  as 
empty  as  a  room  without  furniture.  He  pulled 
out  the  thin  leafs  of  fat  from  about  the  kidneys  and 


66  THE  GRIZZLY 

bowels,  and  munched  at  yard-long  strings  of  it,  hig 
eyes  half  closed. 

The  last  of  the  sun  faded  away  from  the  moun- 
tains, and  darkness  followed  swiftly  after  the  twi- 
light. It  was  dark  when  they  finished,  and  little 
Muskwa  was  as  wide  as  he  was  long. 

Thor  was  the  greatest  of  nature's  conservators. 
With  him  nothing  went  to  waste  that  was  good  to 
eat,  and  at  the  present  moment  if  the  old  bull  caribou 
had  deliberately  walked  within  his  reach  Thor  in 
all  probability  would  not  have  killed  him.  He  had 
food,  and  his  business  was  to  store  that  food  where 
it  would  be  safe. 

He  went  back  to  the  balsam  thicket,  but  the  gorged 
cub  now  made  no  effort  to  follow  him.  He  was 
vastly  contented,  and  something  told  him  that  Thor 
would  not  leave  the  meat.  Ten  minutes  later  Thor 
verified  his  judgment  by  returning.  In  his  huge 
jaws  he  caught  the  caribou  at  the  back  of  the  neck. 
Then  he  swung  himself  partly  sidewise  and  began 
dragging  the  carcass  toward  the  timber  as  a  dog 
might  have  dragged  a  ten-pound  slab  of  bacon. 

The  young  bull  probably  weighed  four  hundred 
pounds.    Had  he  weighed  eight  hundred,  or  even 


THE  GRIZZLY  67 

a  thousand,  Thor  would  still  have  dragged  him — 
but  had  the  carcass  weighed  that  much  he  would 
have  turned  straight  around  and  backed  with  his 
load. 

In  the  edge  of  the  balsams  Thor  had  already 
found  a  hollow  in  the  ground.  He  thrust  the  carcass 
into  this  hollow,  and  while  Muskwa  watched  with  a 
great  and  growing  interest,  he  proceeded  to  cover 
it  over  with  dry  needles,  sticks,  a  rotting  tree  butt, 
and  a  log.  He  did  not  rear  himself  up  and  leave  his 
"mark"  on  a  tree  as  a  warning  to  other  bears.  He 
simply  nosed  round  for  a  bit,  and  then  went  out  of 
the  timber. 

Muskwa  followed  him  now,  and  he  had  some 
trouble  in  properly  navigating  himself  under  the 
handicap  of  his  added  weight.  The  stars  were  be- 
ginning to  fill  the  sky,  and  under  these  stars  Thor 
struck  straight  up  a  steep  and  rugged  slope  that 
led  to  the  mountain-tops.  Up  and  up  he  went, 
higher  than  Muskwa  had  ever  been.  They  crossed 
a  patch  of  snow.  And  then  they  came  to  a  place 
where  it  seemed  as  if  a  volcano  had  disrupted  the 
bowels  of  a  mountain.  Man  could  hardly  have 
travelled  where  Thor  led  Muskwa. 


68  THE  GRIZZLY 

At  last  he  stopped.  He  was  on  a  narrow  ledge* 
with  a  perpendicular  wall  of  rock  at  his  back.  Under 
him  fell  away  the  chaos  of  torn-up  rock  and  shale. 
Far  below  the  valley  lay  a  black  and  bottomless  pit. 

Thor  lay  down,  and  for  the  first  time  since  his 
hurt  in  the  other  valley  he  stretched  out  his  head 
between  his  great  arms,  and  heaved  a  deep  and 
restful  sigh.  Muskwa  crept  up  close  to  him,  so  close 
that  he  was  warmed  by  Thor's  body;  and  together 
they  slept  the  deep  and  peaceful  sleep  of  full  stomachs, 
while  over  them  the  stars  grew  brighter,  and  the 
moon  came  up  to  flood  the  peaks  and  the  valley  in  a 
golden  splendour. 


CHAPTER  SEVEN 

IANGDON  and  Bruce  crossed  the  summit  into 
the  westward  valley  in  the  afternoon  of  the 
-*•  day  Thor  left  the  clay  wallow.  It  was  two 
o'clock  when  Bruce  turned  back  for  the  three  horses, 
leaving  Langdon  on  a  high  ridge  to  scour  the  sur- 
rounding country  through  his  glasses.  For  two 
hours  after  the  packer  returned  with  the  outfit  they 
followed  slowly  along  the  creek  above  which  the 
grizzly  had  travelled,  and  when  they  camped  for 
the  night  they  were  still  two  or  three  miles  from  the 
spot  where  Thor  came  upon  Muskwa.  They  had 
not  yet  found  his  tracks  in  the  sand  of  the  creek 
bottom.  Yet  Bruce  was  confident.  He  knew  that 
Thor  had  been  following  the  crests  of  the  slopes. 

"If  you  go  back  out  of  this  country  an'  write 
about  bears,  don't  make  a  fool  o'  yo'rself  like  most 
of  the  writin'  fellows,  Jimmy,"  he  said,  as  they  sat 
back  to  smoke  their  pipes  after  supper.  "Two  years 
ago  I  took  a  natcherlist  out  for  a  month,  an'  he  was 


70  THE  GRIZZLY 

so  tickled  he  said  'e'd  send  me  a  bunch  o'  books 
about  bears  an*  wild  things.  He  did!  I  read  'em. 
I  laughed  at  first,  an'  then  I  got  mad  an'  made  a 
fire  of  'em.  Bears  is  cur'ous.  There's  a  mighty 
lot  of  interestin'  things  to  say  about  'em  without 
making  a  fool  o'  yo'rself.    There  sure  is!" 

Langdon  nodded. 

"One  has  to  hunt  and  kill  and  hunt  and  kill  for 
years  before  he  discovers  the  real  pleasure  in  big 
game  stalking,"  he  said  slowly,  looking  into  the 
fire.  "And  when  he  comes  down  to  that  real  pleas- 
ure, the  part  of  it  that  absorbs  him  heart  and  soul, 
he  finds  that  after  all  the  big  thrill  isn't  in  killing, 
but  in  letting  live.  I  want  this  grizzly,  and  I'm 
going  to  have  him.  I  won't  leave  the  mountains 
until  I  kill  him.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  we  could 
have  killed  two  other  bears  to-day,  and  I  didn't  take  a 
shot.  I'm  learning  the  game,  Bruce — I'm  beginning 
to  taste  the  real  pleasure  of  hunting.  And  when  one 
hunts  in  the  right  way  one  learns  facts.  You  needn't 
worry.     I'm  going  to  put  only  facts  in  what  I  write.' 

Suddenly  he  turned  and  looked  at  Bruce. 

"What  were  some  of  the  'fool  things'  you  read 
in  those  books?  "  he  asked. 


THE  GRIZZLY  71 

Bruce  blew  out  a  cloud  of  smoke  reflectively. 

"What  made  me  maddest,"  he  said,  "was  what 
those  writer  fellows  said  about  bears  havin'  'marks.* 
Good  Lord,  accordin'  to  what  they  said  all  a  bear 
has  to  do  is  stretch  'imself  up,  put  a  mark  on  a  tree, 
and  that  country  is  his'n  until  a  bigger  bear  comes 
along  an'  licks  'im.  In  one  book  I  remember  where 
a  grizzly  rolled  a  log  up  under  a  tree  so  he  could 
stand  on  it  an'  put  his  mark  above  another  grizzly's 
mark.     Think  of  that! 

"No  bear  makes  a  mark  that  means  anything. 
I've  seen  grizzlies  bite  hunks  out  o'  trees  an'  scratch 
'em  just  as  a  cat  might,  an'  in  the  summer  when  they 
get  itchy  an'  begin  to  lose  their  hair  they  stand  up 
an'  rub  against  trees.  They  rub  because  they  itch 
an'  not  because  they're  leavin'  their  cards  for  other 
bears.  Caribou  an'  moose  an'  deer  do  the  same 
thing  to  get  the  velvet  off  their  horns. 

"Them  same  writers  think  every  grizzly  has  his 
own  range,  an'  they  don't — not  by  a  long  shot  they 
don't!  I've  seen  eight  full-grown  grizzlies  feedin' 
on  the  same  slide!  You  remember,  two  years  ago, 
we  shot  four  grizzlies  in  a  little  valley  that  wasn't  a 
mile  long.    Now  an'   then  there's  a  boss  among 


72  THE  GRIZZLY 

grizzlies,  like  this  fellow  we're  after,  but  even  he 
ain't  got  his  range  alone.  I'll  bet  there's  twenty 
other  bears  in  these  two  valleys !  An'  that  natcherlist 
I  had  two  years  ago  couldn't  tell  a  grizzly's  track 
from  a  black  bear's  track,  an  so  'elp  me  if  he  knew 
what  a  cinnamon  was!" 

He  took  his  pipe  from  his  mouth  and  spat  trucu- 
lently into  the  fire,  and  Langdon  knew  that  other 
things  were  coming.  His  richest  hours  were  those 
when  the  usually  silent  Bruce  fell  into  these  moods. 

"A  cinnamon!"  he  growled.  "Think  of  that, 
Jimmy — he  thought  there  were  such  a  thing  as  a 
cinnamon  bear!  An'  when  I  told  him  there  wasn't, 
an'  that  the  cinnamon  bear  you  read  about  is  a  black 
or  a  grizzly  of  a  cinnamon  colour,  he  laughed  at 
me — an'  there  I  was  born  an'  brung  up  among  bears! 
His  eyes  fair  popped  when  I  told  him  about  the 
colour  o'  bears,  an'  he  thought  I  was  feedin'  him 
rope.  I  figgered  afterward  mebby  that  was  why 
he  sent  me  the  books.  He  wanted  to  show  me  he 
was  right. 

"Jimmy,  there  ain't  anything  on  earth  that's  got 
more  colours  than  a  bear!  I've  seen  black  bears  as 
white  as  snow,  an'  I've  seen  grizzlies  almost  as  black 


THE  GRIZZLY  73 

as  a  black  bear.  I've  seen  cinnamon  black  bears 
an'  I've  seen  cinnamon  grizzlies,  an'  I've  seen  browns 
an'  golds  an'  almost-yellows  of  both  kinds.  They're 
as  different  in  colour  as  they  are  in  their  natchurs  an' 
way  of  eatin'. 

"I  figger  most  natcherlists  go  out  an'  get  ac- 
quainted with  one  grizzly,  an'  then  they  write  up 
all  grizzlies  accordin'  to  that  one.  That  ain't  fair 
to  the  grizzlies,  darned  if  it  is!  There  wasn't  one  of 
them  books  that  didn't  say  the  grizzly  wasn't  the 
fiercest,  man-eatingest  cuss  alive.  He  ain't — unless 
you  corner  'im.  He's  as  cur'ous  as  a  kid,  an'  he's 
good-natured  if  you  don't  bother  'im.  Most  of 
'em  are  vegetarians,  but  some  of  'em  ain't.  I've 
seen  grizzlies  pull  down  goat  an'  sheep  an'  caribou, 
an'  I've  seen  other  grizzlies  feed  on  the  same  slides 
with  them  animals  an'  never  make  a  move  toward 
them.  They're  cur'ous,  Jimmy.  There's  lots  you 
can  say  about  'em  without  makin'  a  fool  o'  yourself!" 

Bruce  beat  the  ash  out  of  his  pipe  as  an  emphasis 
to  his  final  remark.  As  he  reloaded  with  fresh 
tobacco,  Langdon  said: 

"You  can  make  up  your  mind  this  big  fellow  we 
are  after  is  a  game-killer,  Bruce." 


74  THE  GRIZZLY 

"You  can't  tell,"  replied  Bruce.  "Size  don't 
always  tell.  I  knew  a  grizzly  once  that  wasn't  much 
bigger'n  a  dog,  an'  he  was  a  game-killer.  Hundreds 
of  animals  are  winter-killed  in  these  mount'ins  every 
year,  an'  when  spring  comes  the  bears  eat  the 
carcasses;  but  old  flesh  don't  make  game-killers. 
Sometimes  it's  born  in  a  grizzly  to  be  a  killer,  an' 
sometimes  he  becomes  a  killer  by  chance.  If  he 
kills  once,  he'll  kill  again. 

"Once  I  was  on  the  side  of  a  mount 'in  an'  saw  a 
goat  walk  straight  into  the  face  of  a  grizzly.  The 
bear  wasn't  going  to  make  a  move,  but  the  goat  was 
so  scared  it  ran  plump  into  the  old  fellow,  and  he 
killed  it.  He  acted  mighty  surprised  for  ten  minute? 
afterward,  an'  he  sniffed  an'  nosed  around  the  warm 
carcass  for  half  an  hour  before  he  tore  it  open.  That 
was  his  first  taste  of  what  you  might  call  live  game 
I  didn't  kill  him,  an'  I'm  sure  from  that  day  on  he 
was  a  big-game  hunter." 

"I  should  think  size  would  have  something  to 
do  with  it,"  argued  Langdon.  "It  seems  to  me  that 
a  bear  which  eats  flesh  would  be  bigger  and  stronger 
than  if  he  was  a  vegetarian." 

"That's  one  o'  the  cur'ous  things  you  want  to 


THE  GRIZZLY  75 

write  about,"  replied  Bruce,  with  one  of  his  odd 
chuckles.  "  Why  is  it  a  bear  gets  so  fat  he  can  hardly 
walk  along  in  September  when  he  don't  feed  on 
much  else  but  berries  an'  ants  an'  grubs?  Would 
you  get  fat  on  wild  currants? 

"An'  why  does  he  grow  so  fast  during  the  four  or 
five  months  he's  denned  up  an'  dead  to  the  world 
without  a  mouthful  to  eat  or  drink? 

"Why  is  it  that  for  a  month,  an'  sometimes  two 
months,  the  mother  gives  her  cubs  milk  while  she's 
still  what  you  might  call  asleep?  Her  nap  ain't 
much  more'n  two-thirds  over  when  the  cubs  are 
born. 

"And  why  ain't  them  cubs  bigger'n  they  are? 
That  natcherlist  laughed  until  I  thought  he'd  split 
when  I  told  him  a  grizzly  bear  cub  wasn't  much 
bigger'n  a  house-cat  kitten  when  born!" 

"He  was  one  of  the  few  fools  who  aren't  willing 
to  learn — and  yet  you  cannot  blame  him  altogether," 
said  Langdon.  "Four  or  five  years  ago  I  wouldn't 
have  believed  it,  Bruce.  I  couldn't  actually  believe 
it  until  we  dug  out  those  cubs  up  the  Athabasca — 
one  weighed  eleven  ounces  and  the  other  nine.  You 
remember?" 


76  THE  GRIZZLY 

"An'  they  were  a  week  old,  Jimmy.  An'  the 
mother  weighed  eight  hundred  pounds." 

For  a  few  moments  they  both  puffed  silently  on 
their  pipes. 

"Almost — inconceivable,"  said  Langdon  then. 
"And  yet  it's  true.  And  it  isn't  a  freak  of  nature, 
Bruce — it's  simply  a  result  of  Nature's  far-sighted- 
ness. If  the  cubs  were  as  large  comparatively  as 
a  house-cat's  kittens  the  mother-bear  could  not 
sustain  them  during  those  weeks  when  she  eats  and 
drinks  nothing  herself.  There  seems  to  be  just  one 
flaw  in  this  scheme:  an  ordinary  black  bear  is  only 
about  half  as  large  as  a  grizzly,  yet  a  black  bear 
cub  when  born  is  much  larger  than  a  grizzly  cub. 
Now  why  the  devil  that  should  be " 

Bruce  interrupted  his  friend  with  a  good-natured 
laugh. 

"  That's  easy — easy,  Jimmy ! "  he  exclaimed.  u  Do 
you  remember  last  year  when  we  picked  strawberries 
in  the  valley  an'  threw  snowballs  two  hours  later 
up  on  the  mountain?  Higher  you  climb  the  colder 
it  gets,  don't  it?  Right  now — first  day  of  July — 
you'd  half  freeze  up  on  some  of  those  peaks!  A 
grizzly  dens  high,  Jimmy,  and  a  black  bear  dens  low. 


THE  GRIZZLY  77 

When  the  snow  is  four  feet  deep  up  where  the  grizzly 
dens,  the  black  bear  can  still  feed  in  the  deep  valleys 
an'  thick  timber.  He  goes  to  bed  mebby  a  week 
or  two  weeks  later  than  the  grizzly,  an'  he  gets  up 
in  the  spring  a  week  or  two  weeks  earlier;  he's  fatter 
when  he  dens  up  an'  he  ain't  so  poor  when  he  comes 
out — an'  so  the  mother's  got  more  strength  to  give 
to  her  cubs.     It  looks  that  way  to  me." 

"You've  hit  the  nail  on  the  head  as  sure  as  you're 
a  year  old ! "  cried  Langdon  enthusiastically.  " Bruce, 
I  never  thought  of  that!" 

"There's  a  good  many  things  you  don't  think 
about  until  you  run  across  'em,"  said  the  moun- 
taineer. "It's  what  you  said  a  while  ago — such 
things  are  what  makes  huntin'  a  fine  sport  when 
you've  learned  huntin'  ain't  always  killin' — but 
lettin'  live.  One  day  I  lay  seven  hours  on  a  moun- 
tain-top watchin'  a  band  o'  sheep  at  play,  an'  I  had 
more  fun  than  if  I'd  killed  the  whole  bunch." 

Bruce  rose  to  his  feet  and  stretched  himself,  an 
after-supper  operation  that  always  preceded  his  an- 
nouncement that  he  was  going  to  turn  in. 

"Fine  day  to-morrow,"  he  said,  yawning.  "Look 
how  white  the  snow  is  on  the  peaks." 


78  THE  GRIZZLY 

"Bruce " 

"What?" 

"How  heavy  is  this  bear  we're  after?" 

"Twelve  hundred  pounds — mebby  a  little  more. 
I  didn't  have  the  pleasure  of  lookin'  at  him  so  close 
as  you  did,  Jimmy.  If  I  had  we'd  been  dryin'  his 
skin  now!" 

"And  he's  in  his  prime?  " 

"Between  eight  and  twelve  years  old,  I'd  say,  by 
the  way  he  went  up  the  slope.  An  old  bear  don't 
roll  so  easy." 

"You've  run  across  some  pretty  old  bears,  Bruce?" 

"So  old  some  of  'em  needed  crutches,"  said  Bruce, 
unlacing  his  boots.  "I've  shot  bears  so  old  they'd 
lost  their  teeth." 

"How  old?" 

"Thirty — thirty-five — mebby  forty  years.  Good- 
night, Jimmy!" 

"Good-night,  Bruce!" 

Langdon  was  awakened  some  time  hours  later  by 
a  deluge  of  rain  that  brought  him  out  of  his  blankets 
with  a  yell  to  Bruce.  They  had  not  put  up  their 
tepee,  and  a  moment  later  he  heard  Bruce  anathema- 


"They  headed  up  the  creek-bottom,  bending  over  from  their 
saddles  to  look  at  every  strip  of  sand  they  passed  for  tracks. 
They  had  not  gone  a  quarter  of  a  mile  when  Bruce  gave  a  sud- 
den exclamation  and  stopped'* 


THE  GRIZZLY  79 

tizing  their  idiocy.  The  night  was  as  black  as  a 
cavern,  except  when  it  was  broken  by  lurid  flashes 
of  lightning,  and  the  mountains  rolled  and  rumbled 
with  deep  thunder.  Disentangling  himself  from 
his  drenched  blanket,  Langdon  stood  up.  A  glare 
of  lightning  revealed  Bruce  sitting  in  his  blankets, 
his  hair  dripping  down  over  his  long,  lean  face,  and 
at  sight  of  him  Langdon  laughed  outright. 

"Fine  day  to-morrow,"  he  taunted,  repeating 
Bruce's  words  of  a  few  hours  before.  "Look  how 
white  the  snow  is  on  the  peaks ! " 

Whatever  Bruce  said  was  drowned  in  a  crash  of 
thunder. 

Langdon  waited  for  another  Hghtning  flash  and 
then  dove  for  the  shelter  of  a  thick  balsam.  Under 
this  he  crouched  for  five  or  ten  minutes,  when  the 
rain  stopped  as  suddenly  as  it  had  begun.  The 
thunder  rolled  southward,  and  the  Hghtning  went 
with  it.  In  the  darkness  he  heard  Bruce  fumbling 
somewhere  near.  Then  a  match  was  lighted,  and 
he  saw  his  comrade  looking  at  his  watch. 

"Pretty  near  three  o'clock,"  he  said.  "Nice 
shower,  wasn't  it?" 

"I  rather  expected  it,"  replied  Langdon  care- 


80  THE  GRIZZLY 

lessly.  "You  know,  Bruce,  whenever  the  snow  on 
the  peaks  is  so  white " 

"Shut  up — an'  let's  get  a  fire!  Good  thing  we 
had  sense  enough  to  cover  our  grub  with  the  blankets. 
Are  yo'  wet?" 

Langdon  was  wringing  the  water  from  his  hair. 
He  felt  like  a  drowned  rat. 

"No.  I  was  under  a  thick  balsam,  and  prepared 
for  it.  When  you  called  my  attention  to  the  white- 
ness of  the  snow  on  the  peaks  I  knew " 

"Forget  the  snow,"  growled  Bruce,  and  Langdon 
could  hear  him  breaking  off  dry  pitch-filled  twigs 
under  a  spruce. 

He  went  to  help  him,  and  five  minutes  later  they 
had  a  fire  going.  The  light  illumined  their  faces, 
and  each  saw  that  the  other  was  not  unhappy.  Bruce 
was  grinning  under  his  sodden  hair. 

"I  was  dead  asleep  when  it  came,"  he  explained. 
"An'  I  thought  I'd  fallen  in  a  lake.  I  woke  up 
tryin'  to  swim." 

An  early  July  rain  at  three  o'clock  in  the  morning 
in  the  northern  British  Columbia  mountains  is  not 
as  warm  as  it  might  be,  and  for  the  greater  part  of 
an  hour  Langdon  and  Bruce  continued  to  gather 


THE  GRIZZLY  81 

fliel  and  dry  their  blankets  and  clothing.  It  was 
five  o'clock  before  they  had  breakfast,  and  a  little 
after  six  when  they  started  with  their  two  saddles 
and  single  pack  up  the  valley.  Bruce  had  the 
satisfaction  of  reminding  Langdon  that  his  prediction 
had  come  true  for  a  glorious  day  followed  the 
thunder  shower. 

Under  them  the  meadows  were  dripping.  The 
valley  purred  louder  with  the  music  of  the  swollen 
streamlets.  From  the  mountain-tops  a  half  of  last 
night's  snow  was  gone,  and  to  Langdon  the  flowers 
seemed  taller  and  more  beautiful.  The  air  that 
drifted  through  the  valley  was  laden  with  the  sweet- 
ness and  freshness  of  the  morning,  and  over  and 
through  it  all  the  sun  shone  in  a  warm  and  golden 
sea. 

They  headed  up  the  creek-bottom,  bending  over 
from  their  saddles  to  look  at  every  strip  of  sand  they 
passed  for  tracks.  They  had  not  gone  a  quarter  of 
a  mile  when  Bruce  gave  a  sudden  exclamation,  and 
stopped.  He  pointed  to  a  round  patch  of  sand  in 
which  Thor  had  left  one  of  his  huge  footprints. 
Langdon  dismounted  and  measured  it. 

*It's  he!"  he  cried,  and  there  was  a  thrill  of  ex- 


82  THE  GRIZZLY 

citement  in  his  voice.  "Hadn't  we  better  go  on 
without  the  horses,  Bruce?" 

The  mountaineer  shook  his  head.  But  before 
he  voiced  an  opinion  he  got  down  from  his  horse 
and  scanned  the  sides  of  the  mountains  ahead  of 
them  through  his  long  telescope.  Langdon  used 
his  double-barrelled  hunting  glass.  They  discovered 
nothing. 

"He's  still  in  the  creek-bottom,  an'  he's  probably 
three  or  four  miles  ahead,"  said  Bruce.  "We'll 
ride  on  a  couple  o'  miles  an'  find  a  place  good  for  the 
horses.     The  grass  an'  bushes  will  be  dry  then." 

It  was  easy  to  follow  Thor's  course  after  this, 
for  he  had  hung  close  to  the  creek.  Within  three 
or  four  hundred  yards  of  the  great  mass  of  boulders 
where  the  grizzly  had  come  upon  the  tan-faced  cub 
was  a  small  copse  of  spruce  in  the  heart  of  a  grassy 
dip,  and  here  the  hunters  stripped  and  hobbled  their 
horses.  Twenty  minutes  later  they  had  come  up 
cautiously  to  the  soft  carpet  of  sand  where  Thor 
and  Muskwa  had  become  acquainted.  The  heavy 
rain  had  obliterated  the  cub's  tiny  footprints,  but 
the  sand  was  cut  up  by  the  grizzly's  tracks.  The 
packer's  teeth  gleamed  as  he  looked  at  Langdon. 


THE  GRIZZLY  83 

"He  ain't  very  far,"  he  whispered.  "Shouldn't 
wonder  if  he  spent  the  night  pretty  close  an'  he's 
mooshing  on  just  ahead  of  us." 

He  wet  a  finger  and  held  it  above  his  head  to  get 
the  wind.     He  nodded  significantly. 

"  We'd  better  get  up  on  the  slopes,"  he  said. 

They  made  their  way  around  the  end  of  the 
boulders,  holding  their  guns  in  readiness,  and  headed 
for  a  small  coulee  that  promised  an  easy  ascent  of 
the  first  slope.  At  the  mouth  of  this  both  paused 
again.  Its  bottom  was  covered  with  sand,  and  in 
this  sand  were  the  tracks  of  another  bear.  Bruce 
dropped  on  his  knees. 

"  It's  another  grizzly,"  said  Langdon. 

"No,  it  ain't;  it's  a  black,"  said  Bruce.  "Jimmy, 
can't  I  ever  knock  into  yo'r  head  the  difference 
between  a  black  an'  a  grizzly  track?  This  is  the 
hind  foot,  an'  the  heel  is  round.  If  it  was  a  grizzly 
it  would  be  pointed.  An'  it's  too  broad  an'  clubby 
f'r  a  grizzly,  an'  the  claws  are  too  long  f'r  the  length 
of  the  foot.  It's  a  black  as  plain  as  the  nose  on  yo'r 
face!" 

"And  going  our  way,"  said  Langdon,  "Come 
onJ" 


84  THE  GRIZZLY 

Two  hundred  yards  up  the  coulee  the  bear  had 
climbed  out  on  the  slope.  Langdon  and  Bruce  fol- 
lowed. In  the  thick  grass  and  hard  shale  of  the  first 
crest  of  the  slope  the  tracks  were  quickly  lost,  but 
the  hunters  were  not  much  interested  in  these  tracks 
now.  From  the  height  at  which  they  were  travelling 
they  had  a  splendid  view  below  them. 

Not  once  did  Bruce  take  his  eyes  from  the  creek 
bottom.  He  knew  that  it  was  down  there  they 
would  find  the  grizzly,  and  he  was  interested  in  noth* 
ing  else  just  at  present.  Langdon,  on  the  other 
hand,  was  interested  in  everything  that  might  be 
living  or  moving  about  them;  every  mass  of  rock 
and  thicket  of  thorn  held  possibilities  for  him,  and  his 
eyes  were  questing  the  higher  ridges  and  the  peaks 
as  well  as  their  immediate  trail.  It  was  because  of 
this  that  he  saw  something  which  made  him  sud- 
denly grip  his  companion's  arm  and  pull  him  down 
beside  him  on  the  ground. 

"Look! "  he  whispered,  stretching  out  an  arm. 

From  his  kneeling  posture  Bruce  stared.  His  eyes 
fairly  popped  in  amazement.  Not  more  than  thirty 
feet  above  them  was  a  big  rock  shaped  like  a  dry- 
goods  box,  and  protruding  from  behind  the  farther 


THE  GRIZZLY  85 

side  of  this  rock  was  the  rear  half  of  a  bear.  It  was 
a  black  bear,  its  glossy  coat  shining  in  the  sunlight. 
For  a  full  half  minute  Bruce  continued  to  stare. 
Then  he  grinned. 

"Asleep — dead  asleep!  Jimmy-  -you  want  to  see 
some  fun?" 

He  put  down  his  gun  and  drew  out  his  long  hunting 
knife.  He  chuckled  softly  as  he  felt  of  its  keen 
point. 

"If  you  never  saw  a  bear  run  yo'r  goin'  to  see  one 
run  now,  Jimmy!     You  stay  here!  " 

He  began  crawling  slowly  and  quietly  up  the  slope 
toward  the  rock,  while  Langdon  held  his  breath  in 
anticipation  of  what  was  about  to  happen.  Twice 
Bruce  looked  back,  and  he  was  grinning  broadly. 
There  was  undoubtedly  going  to  be  a  very  much 
astonished  bear  racing  for  the  tops  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains  in  another  moment  or  two,  and  between 
this  thought  and  the  picture  of  Bruce's  long  lank 
figure  snaking  its  way  upward  foot  by  foot  the 
humour  of  the  situation  fell  upon  Langdon.  Finally 
Bruce  reached  the  rock.  The  long  knife-blade 
gleamed  in  the  sun;  then  it  shot  forward  and  a  half 
inch  of  steel  buried  itself  in  the  bear's  rump.     What 


86  THE  GRIZZLY 

followed  in  the  next  thirty  seconds  Langdon  would 
never  forget.  The  bear  made  no  movement.  Bruce 
jabbed  again.  Still  there  was  no  movement,  and 
at  the  second  thrust  Bruce  remained  as  motionless  as 
the  rock  against  which  he  was  crouching,  and  his 
mouth  was  wide  open  as  he  stared  down  at  Langdon. 

"Now  what  the  devil  do  you  think  of  that?"  he 
said,  and  rose  slowly  to  his  feet.  "He  ain't  asleep — 
he's  dead!" 

Langdon  ran  up  to  him,  and  they  went  around  the 
end  of  the  rock.  Bruce  still  held  the  knife  in  his  hand 
and  there  was  an  odd  expression  in  his  face — a  look 
that  put  troubled  furrows  between  his  eyes  as  he 
stood  for  a  moment  without  speaking. 

"I  never  see  anything  like  that  before,"  he  said, 
slowly  slipping  his  knife  in  its  sheath.  "It's  a  she- 
bear,  an'  she  had  cubs — pretty  young  cubs,  too,  from 
the  looks  o*  her/ 

"She  was  after  a  whistler,  and  undermined  the 
rock,"  added  Langdon.  "Crushed  to  death,  eh, 
Bruce?" 

Bruce  nodded. 

"I  never  see  anything  like  it  before,"  he  repeated. 
"I've  wondered  why  they  didn't  get  killed  by  diggin' 


THE  GEIZZLY  87 

under  the  rocks — but  I  never  see  it.  Wonder  where 
the  cubs  are?     Poor  little  devils !,? 

He  was  on  his  knees  examining  the  dead  mother's 
teats. 

"She  didn't  have  more'n  two — mebby  one,"  he 
said,  rising.     "About  three  months  old." 

"And  they'U  starve?" 

"If  there  was  only  one  he  probably  will.  The 
little  cuss  had  so  much  milk  he  didn't  have  to  forage 
for  himself.  Cubs  is  a  good  deal  like  babies — you 
3an  wean  'em  early  or  you  can  ha'f  grow  'em  on  pap. 
An'  this  is  what  comes  of  runnin'  off  an'  leavin' 
your  babies  alone,"  moralized  Bruce.  "If  you  ever 
git  married,  Jimmy,  don't  you  let  yo'r  wife  do  it. 
Sometimes  th'  babies  burn  up  or  break  their  necks!" 

Again  he  turned  along  the  crest  of  the  slope,  his 
eyes  once  more  searching  the  valley,  and  Langdon 
followed  a  step  behind  him,  wondering  what  had 
become  of  the  cub. 

And  Muskwa,  still  slumbering  on  the  rock-ledge 
with  Thor,  was  dreaming  of  the  mother  who  lay 
crushed  under  the  rock  on  the  slope,  and  as  he 
dreamed  he  whimpered  softly. 


CHAPTER  EIGHT 

THE  ledge  where  Thor  and  Muskwa  lay  caught 
the  first  gleams  of  the  morning  sun,  and 
as  the  sun  rose  higher  the  ledge  grew  warmer 
and  warmer,  and  Thor,  when  he  awoke,  merely 
stretched  himself  and  made  no  effort  to  rise.  After 
his  wounds  and  the  sapoos  oowin  and  the  feast  in  the 
valley  he  was  feeling  tremendously  fine  and  com- 
fortable, and  he  was  in  no  very  great  haste  to  leave 
this  golden  pool  of  sunlight.  For  a  long  time  he 
looked  steadily  and  curiously  at  Muskwa  In  the 
chill  of  the  night  the  little  cub  had  snuggled  up  close 
between  the  warmth  of  Thor's  huge  forearms,  and 
still  lay  there,  whimpering  in  his  babyish  way  as  he 
dreamed. 

After  a  time  Thor  did  something  that  he  had  never 
been  guilty  of  before — he  sniffed  gently  at  the  soft 
little  ball  between  his  paws,  and  just  once  his  big 
flat  red  tongue  touched  the  cub's  face;  and  Muskwa, 
perhaps  still  dreaming  of  his  mother,  snuggled  closerr 

88 


THE  GRIZZLY  89 

As  little  white  children  have  won  the  hearts  of 
savages  who  were  about  to  slay  them,  so  Muskwa 
had  come  strangely  into  the  life  of  Thor. 

The  big  grizzly  was  still  puzzled.  Not  only  was 
he  struggling  against  an  unaccountable  dislike  of  all 
cubs  in  general,  but  also  against  the  firmly  estab- 
lished habits  of  ten  years  of  aloneness.  Yet  he  was 
beginning  to  comprehend  that  there  was  something 
very  pleasant  and  companionable  in  the  nearness  of 
Muskwa  With  the  coming  of  man  a  new  emotion 
had  entered  into  his  being — perhaps  only  the  spark 
of  an  emotion.  Until  one  has  enemies,  and  faces 
dangers,  one  cannot  fully  appreciate  friendship — 
and  it  may  be  that  Thor,  who  now  confronted  real 
enemies  and  a  real  danger  for  the  first  time,  was 
beginning  to  understand  what  friendship  meant. 
Also  it  was  drawing  near  to  his  mating  season,  and 
about  Muskwa  was  the  scent  of  his  mother.  And  so 
as  Muskwa  continued  to  bask  and  dream  in  the 
sunshine,  there  was  a  growing  content  in  Thor. 

He  looked  down  into  the  valley,  shimmering  in 
the  wet  of  the  night's  rain,  and  he  saw  nothing  to 
rouse  discontent;  he  sniffed  the  air,  and  it  "was 
filled   with    the   unpolluted    sweetness   of    growing 


90  THE  GRIZZLY 

grass,  of  flowers,  and  balsam,  and  water  fresh  from 
the  clouds. 

Thor  began  to  lick  his  wound,  and  it  was  this 
movement  that  roused  Muskwa.  The  cub  lifted 
his  head.  He  blinked  at  the  sun  for  a  moment — 
then  rubbed  his  face  sleepily  with  his  tiny  paw  and 
stood  up.  Like  all  youngsters,  he  was  ready  for 
another  day,  in  spite  of  the  hardships  and  toil  of  the 
preceding  one. 

While  Thor  still  lay  restfully  looking  down  into 
the  valley,  Muskwa  began  investigating  the  crevices 
in  the  rock  wall,  and  tumbled  about  among  the 
boulders  on  the  ledge. 

From  the  valley  Thor  turned  his  eyes  to  the  cub. 
There  was  curiosity  in  his  attitude  as  he  watched 
Muskwa's  antics  and  queer  tumblings  among  the 
rocks.     Then  he  rose  cumbrously  and  shook  himself. 

For  at  least  five  minutes  he  stood  looking  down 
into  the  valley,  and  sniffing  the  wind,  as  motionless 
as  though  carven  out  of  rock.  And  Muskwa,  perk- 
ing up  his  little  ears,  came  and  stood  beside  him,  his 
sharp  little  eyes  peering  from  Thor  off  into  sunlit 
space,  and  then  back  to  Thor  again,  as  if  wondering 
what  was  about  to  happen  next. 


THE  GRIZZLY  91 

The  big  grizzly  answered  the  question.  He  turned 
along  the  rock  shelf  and  began  descending  into  the 
valley.  Muskwa  tagged  behind,  just  as  he  had 
followed  the  day  before.  The  cub  felt  twice  as  big 
and  fully  twice  as  strong  as  yesterday,  and  he  no 
longer  was  obsessed  by  that  uncomfortable  yearning 
for  his  mother's  milk.  Thor  had  graduated  him 
quickly,  and  he  was  a  meat-eater.  And  he  knew  they 
were  returning  to  where  they  had  feasted  last  night. 

They  had  descended  half  the  distance  of  the  slope 
when  the  wind  brought  something  to  Thor.  A  deep- 
chested  growl  rolled  out  of  him  as  he  stopped  for  a 
moment,  the  thick  ruff  about  his  neck  bristling 
ominously.  The  scent  he  had  caught  came  from 
the  direction  of  his  cache,  and  it  was  an  odour  which 
he  was  not  in  a  humour  to  tolerate  in  this  particular 
locality.  Strongly  he  smelled  the  presence  of  an- 
other bear.  This  would  not  have  excited  him  under 
ordinary  conditions,  and  it  would  not  have  excited 
him  now  had  the  presence  been  that  of  a  female  bear0 
But  the  scent  was  that  of  a  he-bear,  and  it  drifted 
strongly  up  a  rock-cut  ravine  that  ran  straight  down 
toward  the  balsam  patch  in  which  he  had  hidden  the 
caribou. 


m  THE  GRIZZLY 

Thor  stopped  to  ask  himself  no  questions.  Growl- 
ing under  his  breath,  he  began  to  descend  so  swiftly 
that  Muskwa  had  great  difficulty  in  keeping  up  with 
him.  Not  until  they  came  to  the  edge  of  the  plain 
that  overlooked  the  lake  and  the  balsams  did  they 
stop.  Muskwa's  little  jaws  hung  open  as  he  panted. 
Then  his  ears  pricked  forward,  he  stared,  and  sud- 
denly every  muscle  in  his  small  body  became  rigid. 

Seventy-five  yards  below  them  their  cache  was 
being  outraged.  The  robber  was  a  huge  black  bear. 
He  was  a  splendid  outlaw.  He  was,  perhaps,  three 
hundred  pounds  lighter  than  Thor,  but  he  stood 
almost  as  high,  and  in  the  sunlight  his  coat  shone 
with  the  velvety  gloss  of  sable — the  biggest  and 
boldest  bear  that  had  entered  Thor's  domain  in  many 
a  day.  He  had  pulled  the  caribou  carcass  from  its 
hiding-place  and  was  eating  as  Thor  and  Muskwa 
looked  down  on  him. 

After  a  moment  Muskwa  peered  up  questioningly 
at  Thor.  "What  are  we  going  to  do?"  he  seemed  to 
ask.     "  He's  got  our  dinner !' ' 

Slowly  and  very  deliberately  Thor  began  picking 
his  way  down  those  last  seventy-five  yards.  He 
seemed  to  be  in  no  hurry  now. 


THE  GRIZZLY  93 

When  he  reached  the  edge  of  the  meadow,  perhaps 
thirty  or  forty  yards  from  the  big  invader,  he  stopped 
again.  There  was  nothing  particularly  ugly  in  his 
attitude,  but  the  ruff  about  his  shoulders  was  bigger 
than  Muskwa  had  ever  seen  it  before. 

The  black  looked  up  from  his  feast,  and  for  a  full 
half  minute  they  eyed  each  other.  In  a  slow, 
pendulum-like  motion  the  grizzly's  huge  head  swung 
from  side  to  side;  the  black  was  as  motionless  as  a 
sphinx. 

Four  or  five  feet  from  Thor  stood  Muskwa.  In 
a  small-boyish  sort  of  way  he  knew  that  something 
was  going  to  happen  soon,  and  in  that  same  small- 
boyish  way  he  was  ready  to  put  his  stub  of  a  tail 
between  his  legs  and  flee  with  Thor,  or  advance  and 
fight  with  him.  His  eyes  were  curiously  attracted 
by  that  pendulum-like  swing  of  Thor's  head.  All 
nature  understood  that  swing.  Man  had  learned  to 
understand  it.  "Look  out  when  a  grizzly  rolls  his 
head!"  is  the  first  commandment  of  the  bear-hunter 
in  the  mountains. 

The  big  black  understood,  and  like  other  bears  in 
Thor's  domain,  he  should  have  slunk  a  little  back- 
ward, turned  about  and  made  his  exit.    Thor  gave 


94  THE  GRIZZLY 

him  ample  time.  But  the  black  was  a  new  bear  in 
the  valley — and  he  was  not  only  that:  he  was  a 
powerful  bear,  and  un whipped;  and  he  had  over- 
lorded a  range  of  his  own.     He  stood  his  ground. 

The  first  growl  of  menace  that  passed  between  the 
two  came  from  the  black. 

Again  Thor  advanced,  slowly  and  deliberately — 
straight  for  the  robber.  Muskwa  followed  half- 
way and  then  stopped  and  squatted  himself  on  his 
belly.  Ten  feet  from  the  carcass  Thor  paused 
again;  and  now  his  huge  head  swung  more  swiftly 
back  and  forth,  and  a  low  rumbling  thunder  came 
from  between  his  half -open  jaws.  The  black's  ivory 
fangs  snarled;  Muskwa  whined. 

Again  Thor  advanced,  a  foot  at  a  time,  and  now 
his  gaping  jaws  almost  touched  the  ground,  and 
his  huge  body  was  hunched  low. 

When  no  more  than  the  length  of  a  yardstick 
separated  them  there  came  a  pause.  For  perhaps 
thirty  seconds  they  were  like  two  angry  men,  each 
trying  to  strike  terror  to  the  other's  heart  by  the 
steadiness  of  his  look. 

Muskwa  shook  as  if  with  the  ague,  and  whined— 
softly  and  steadily  he  whined,  and  the  whine  reached 


THE  GRIZZLY  95 

Thor's  ears.  What  happened  after  that  began  so 
quickly  that  Muskwa  was  struck  dumb  with  terror, 
and  he  lay  flattened  out  on  the  earth  as  motionless 
as  a  stone. 

With  that  grinding,  snarling  grizzly  roar,  which 
is  unlike  any  other  animal  cry  in  the  world,  Thor 
flung  himself  at  the  black.  The  black  reared  a  little 
« — just  enough  to  fling  himself  backward  easily  as 
they  came  together  breast  to  breast.  He  rolled 
upon  his  back,  but  Thor  was  too  old  a  fighter  to  be 
caught  by  that  first  vicious  ripping  stroke  of  the 
black's  hind  foot,  and  he  buried  his  four  long  flesh- 
rending  teeth  to  the  bone  of  his  enemy's  shoulder. 
At  the  same  time  he  struck  a  terrific  cutting  stroke 
with  his  left  paw. 

Thor  was  a  digger,  and  his  claws  were  dulled; 
the  black  was  not  a  digger,  but  a  tree-climber,  and 
his  claws  were  like  knives.  And  like  knives  they 
buried  themselves  in  Thor's  wounded  shoulder,  and 
the  blood  spurted  forth  afresh. 

With  a  roar  that  seemed  to  set  the  earth  trembling, 
the  huge  grizzly  lunged  backward  and  reared  him- 
self to  his  full  nine  feet.  He  had  given  the  black 
warning.     Even  after  their  first  tussle  his  enemy 


96  THE  GRIZZLY 

might  have  retreated  and  he  would  not  have  pursued. 
Now  it  was  a  fight  to  the  death!  The  black  had 
done  more  than  ravage  his  cache.  He  had  opened 
the  man- wound ! 

A  minute  before  Thor  had  been  fighting  for  law 
and  right — without  great  animosity  or  serious  desire 
to  kill.  Now,  however,  he  was  terrible.  His  mouth 
was  open,  and  it  was  eight  inches  from  jaw  to  jaw; 
his  lips  were  drawn  up  until  his  white  teeth  and  his 
red  gums  were  bared;  muscles  stood  out  like  cords 
on  his  nostrils,  and  between  his  eyes  was  a  furrow 
like  the  cleft  made  by  an  axe  in  the  trunk  of  a  pine. 
His  eyes  shone  with  the  glare  of  red  garnets,  their 
greenish-black  pupils  almost  obliterated  by  the 
ferocious  fire  that  was  in  them.  Man,  facing  Thor 
in  this  moment,  would  have  known  that  only  one 
would  come  out  alive. 

Thor  was  not  a  "stand-up"  fighter.  For  perhaps 
six  or  seven  seconds  he  remained  erect,  but  as  the 
black  advanced  a  step  he  dropped  quickly  to  ali 
fours. 

The  black  met  him  halfway,  and  after  this — for 
many  minutes — Muskwa  hugged  closer  and  closer 
to  the  earth  while  with  gleaming  eyes  he  watched 


THE  GRIZZLY  97 

the  battle.  It  was  such  a  fight  as  only  the  jungles 
and  the  mountains  see,  and  the  roar  of  it  drifted  up 
and  down  the  valley. 

Like  human  creatures  the  two  giant  beasts  used 
their  powerful  forearms  while  with  fangs  and  hind 
feet  they  ripped  and  tore.  For  two  minutes  they 
were  in  a  close  and  deadly  embrace,  both  rolling 
on  the  ground,  now  one  under  and  then  the  other. 
The  black  clawed  ferociously;  Thor  used  chiefly  his 
teeth  and  his  terrible  right  hind  foot.  With  his 
forearms  he  made  no  effort  to  rend  the  black,  but 
used  them  to  hold  and  throw  his  enemy.  He  was 
fighting  to  get  under,  as  he  had  flung  himself  under 
the  caribou  he  had  disembowelled. 

Again  and  .again  Thor  buried  his  long  fangs  in  the 
other's  flesh;  but  in  fang-fighting  the  black  was 
even  quicker  than  he,  and  his  right  shoulder  was 
being  literally  torn  to  pieces  when  their  jaws  met 
in  midair.  Muskwa  heard  the  clash  of  them;  he 
heard  the  grind  of  teeth  on  teeth,  the  sickening 
crunch  of  bone. 

Then  suddenly  the  black  was  flung  upon  his  side 
as  though  his  neck  had  been  broken,  and  Thor  was 
at  his  throat.    Still  the  black  fought,  his  gaping  and 


98  THE  GRIZZLY 

bleeding  jaws  powerless  now  as  the  grizzly  closed 
his  own  huge  jaws  on  the  jugular. 

Muskwa  stood  up.  He  was  shivering  still,  but 
with  a  new  and  strange  emotion.  This  was  not 
play,  as  he  and  his  mother  had  played.  For  the 
first  time  he  was  looking  upon  battle,  and  the  thrill 
of  it  sent  the  blood  hot  and  fast  through  his  little 
body.  With  a  faint,  puppyish  snarl  he  darted  in. 
His  teeth  sank  futilely  into  the  thick  hair  and  tough 
hide  of  the  black's  rump.  He  pulled  and  he  snarled; 
he  braced  himself  with  his  forefeet  and  tugged  at  his 
mouthful  of  hair,  filled  with  a  blind  and  unaccount- 
able rage. 

The  black  twisted  himself  upon  his  back,  and  one 
of  his  hind  feet  raked  Thor  from  chest  to  vent. 
That  stroke  would  have  disembowelled  a  caribou  or 
a  deer;  it  left  a  red,  open,  bleeding  wound  three  feet 
long  on  Thor. 

Before  it  could  be  repeated,  the  grizzly  swung  him- 
self sidewise,  and  the  second  blow  caught  Muskwa. 
The  flat  of  the  black's  foot  struck  him,  and  for  twenty 
feet  he  was  sent  like  a  stone  out  of  a  sling-shot.  He 
was  not  cut,  but  he  was  stunned. 

In  that  same  moment  Thor  released  his  hold  on 


THE  GRIZZLY  99 

his  enemy's  throat,  and  swung  two  or  three  feet  to 
one  side.  He  was  dripping  blood.  The  black's 
shoulders,  chest,  and  neck  were  saturated  with 
it;  huge  chunks  had  been  torn  from  his  body.  He 
made  an  effort  to  rise,  and  Thor  was  on  him  again. 

This  time  Thor  got  his  deadliest  of  all  holds.  His 
great  jaws  clamped  in  a  death-grip  over  the  upper 
part  of  the  black's  nose.  One  terrific  grinding 
crunch,  and  the  fight  was  over.  The  black  could 
not  have  lived  after  that.  But  this  fact  Thor  did 
not  know.  It  was  now  easy  for  him  to  rip  with  those 
knifelike  claws  on  his  hind  feet.  He  continued  to 
maul  and  tear  for  ten  minutes  after  the  black  was 
dead. 

When  Thor  finally  quit  the  scene  of  battle  was 
terrible  to  look  upon.  The  ground  was  torn  up  and 
red;  it  was  covered  with  great  strips  of  black  hide 
and  pieces  of  flesh;  and  the  black,  on  the  under  side, 
was  torn  open  from  end  to  end. 

Two  miles  away,  tense  and  white  and  scarcely 
breathing  as  they  looked  through  their  glasses, 
Langdon  and  Bruce  crouched  beside  a  rock  on  the 
mountain-side.  At  that  distance  they  had  wit- 
nessed the  terrific  spectacle,  but  they  could  not  see 


100  THE  GRIZZLY 

the  cub.  As  Thor  stood  panting  and  bleeding  over 
his  lifeless  enemy,  Langdon  lowered  his  glass. 

"My  God!"  he  breathed. 

Bruce  sprang  to  his  feet. 

"Come  on!"  he  cried.  "The  black's  dead!  If 
we  hustle  we  can  get  our  grizzly!" 

And  down  in  the  meadow  Muskwa  ran  to  Thor 
with  a  bit  of  warm  black  hide  in  his  mouth,  and 
Thor  lowered  his  great  bleeding  head,  and  just  once 
his  red  tongue  shot  out  and  caressed  Muskwa's  face. 
For  the  little  tan-faced  cub  had  proved  himself; 
and  it  may  be  that  Thor  had  seen  and  understood. 


CHAPTER  NINE 

NEITHER  Thor  nor  Muskwa  went  near  the 
caribou  meat  after  the  big  fight.  Thor  was 
in  no  condition  to  eat,  and  Muskwa  was  so 
filled  with  excitement  and  trembling  that  he  could 
not  swallow  a  mouthful.  He  continued  to  worry 
a  strip  of  black  hide,  snarling  and  growling  in  his 
puny  way,  as  though  finishing  what  the  other  had 
begun. 

For  many  minutes  the  grizzly  stood  with  his  big 
head  drooping,  and  the  blood  gathered  in  splashes 
under  him.  He  was  facing  down  the  valley.  There 
was  almost  no  wind — so  little  that  it  was  scarcely 
possible  to  tell  from  which  direction  it  came.  Eddies 
of  it  were  caught  in  the  coulees,  and  higher  up  about 
the  shoulders  and  peaks  it  blew  stronger.  Now  and 
then  one  of  these  higher  movements  of  air  would 
sweep  gently  downward  and  flow  through  the  valley 
for  a  few  moments  in  a  great  noiseless  breath  that 
barely  stirred  the  tops  of  the  balsams  and  spruce. 

101 


102  THE  GRIZZLY 

One  of  these  'mountain-breaths  came  as  Thor  faced 
the  east.  And  with  it,  faint  and  terrible,  came  the 
man-smell ! 

Thor  roused  himself  with  a  sudden  growl  from 
the  lethargy  into  which  he  had  momentarily  allowed 
himself  to  sink.  His  relaxed  muscles  hardened. 
He  raised  his  head  and  sniffed  the  wind. 

Muskwa  ceased  his  futile  fight  with  the  bit  of 
hide  and  also  sniffed  the  air.  It  was  warm  with 
the  man-scent,  for  Langdon  and  Bruce  were  running 
and  sweating,  and  the  odour  of  man-sweat  drifts 
heavy  and  far.  It  filled  Thor  with  a  fresh  rage. 
For  a  second  time  it  came  when  he  was  hurt  and 
bleeding.  He  had  already  associated  the  man-smell 
with  hurt,  and  now  it  was  doubly  impressed  upon 
him.  He  turned  his  head  and  snarled  at  the  muti- 
lated body  of  the  big  black.  Then  he  snarled  menac- 
ingly in  the  face  of  the  wind.  He  was  in  no  humour 
to  run  away.  In  these  moments,  if  Bruce  and 
Langdon  had  appeared  over  the  rise,  Thor  would  have 
charged  with  that  deadly  ferocity  which  lead  can 
scarcely  stop,  and  which  has  given  to  his  kind  their 
terrible  name. 

But  the  breath  of  air  passed,  and  there  followed 


"  'Come  on !'  he  cried.     'The  black's  dead !     If  we  hustle  we  can 
get  our  grizzly!" 


THE  GRIZZLY  103 

a  peaceful  calm.  The  valley  was  filled  with  the  purr 
of  running  water;  from  their  rocks  the  whistlers 
called  forth  their  soft  notes;  up  on  the  green  plain 
the  ptarmigan  were  fluting,  and  rising  in  white- 
winged  flocks.  These  things  soothed  Thor,  as  a 
woman's  gentle  hand  quiets  an  angry  man.  For  five 
minutes  he  continued  to  rumble  and  growl  as  he 
tried  vainly  to  catch  the  scent  again;  but  the  rum- 
bling and  growling  grew  steadily  less,  and  finally  he 
turned  and  walked  slowly  toward  the  coulee  down 
tfhich  he  and  Muskwa  had  come  a  little  while  before, 
Muskwa  followed. 

The  coulee,  or  ravine,  hid  them  from  the  valley 
i  as  they  ascended.  Its  bottom  was  covered  with 
rock  and  shale.  The  wounds  Thor  had  received  in 
the  fight,  unlike  bullet  wounds,  had  stopped  bleed- 
ing after  the  first  few  minutes,  and  he  left  no  telltale 
red  spots  behind.  The  ravine  took  them  to  the  first 
chaotic  upheaval  of  rock  halfway  up  the  mountain, 
and  here  they  were  still  more  lost  to  view  from  below. 
They  stopped  and  drank  at  a  pool  formed  by  the 
melting  snow  on  the  peaks,  and  then  went  on.  Thor 
did  not  stop  when  tliey  reached  the  ledge  on  which 
they  had  slept  the  previous  night.    And  this  time 


104  THE  GRIZZLY 

Muskwa  was  not  tired  when  they  reached  the  ledge, 
Two  days  had  made  a  big  change  in  the  little  tan- 
faced  cub.  He  was  not  so  round  and  puffy.  And 
he  was  stronger — a  great  deal  stronger;  he  was  be- 
coming hardened,  and  under  Thor's  strenuous  tute- 
lage he  was  swiftly  graduating  from  cub-hood  to 
young  bear-hood. 

It  was  evident  that  Thor  had  followed  this  ledge 
at  some  previous  time.  He  knew  where  he  was 
going.  It  continued  up  and  up,  and  finally  seemed 
to  end  in  the  face  of  a  precipitous  wall  of  rock. 
Thor's  trail  led  him  directly  to  a  great  crevice, 
hardly  wider  than  his  body,  and  through  this  he 
went,  emerging  at  the  edge  of  the  wildest  and  rough- 
est slide  of  rock  that  Muskwa  had  ever  seen.  It 
looked  like  a  huge  quarry,  and  it  broke  through  the 
timber  far  below  them,  and  reached  almost  to  the 
top  of  the  mountain  above. 

For  Muskwa  to  make  his  way  over  the  thousand 
pitfalls  of  that  chaotic  upheaval  was  an  impossibility, 
and  as  Thor  began  to  climb  over  the  first  rocks 
the  cub  stopped  and  whined.  It  was  the  first  time 
he  had  given  up,  and  when  he  saw  that  Thor  gave 
no  attention  to  his  whine,  terror  seized  upon  him 


THE  GRIZZLY  105 

and  he  cried  for  help  as  loudly  as  he  could  while  he 
hunted  frantically  for  a  path  up  through  the  rocks. 

Utterly  oblivious  of  Muskwa's  predicament,  Thor 
continued  until  he  was  fully  thirty  yards  away. 
Then  he  stopped,  faced  about  deliberately,  and 
waited. 

This  gave  Muskwa  courage,  and  he  scratched  and 
clawed  and  even  used  his  chin  and  teeth  in  his  efforts 
to  follow.  It  took  him  ten  minutes  to  reach  Thor, 
and  he  was  completely  winded.  Then,  all  at  once, 
his  terror  vanished.  For  Thor  stood  on  a  white, 
narrow  path  that  was  as  solid  as  a  floor. 

The  path  was  perhaps  eighteen  inches  wide.  It 
was  unusual-  and  mysterious-looking,  and  strangely 
out  of  place  where  it  was.  It  looked  as  though  an 
army  of  workmen  had  come  along  with  hammers 
and  had  broken  up  tons  of  sandstone  and  slate,  and 
then  filled  in  between  the  boulders  with  rubble, 
making  a  smooth  and  narrow  road  that  in  places 
was  ground  to  the  fineness  of  powder  and  the  hard- 
ness of  cement.  But  instead  of  hammers,  the  hoofs 
of  a  hundred  or  perhaps  a  thousand  generations  of 
mountain  sheep  had  made  the  trail.  It  was  the 
sheep-path  over  the  range.     The  first  band  of  big' 


106  THE  GRIZZLY 

horn  may  have  blazed  the  way  before  Columbus  dis- 
covered America;  surely  it  had  taken  a  great  many 
years  for  hoofs  to  make  that  smooth  road  among  the 
rocks. 

Thor  used  the  path  as  one  of  his  highways  from 
valley  to  valley,  and  there  were  other  creatures  of 
the  mountains  who  used  it  as  well  as  he,  and  more 
frequently.  As  he  stood  waiting  for  Muskwa  to  get 
his  wind  they  both  heard  an  odd  chuckling  sound 
approaching  them  from  above.  Forty  or  fifty  feet 
up  the  slide  the  path  twisted  and  descended  a  little* 
depression  behind  a  huge  boulder,  and  out  from  be- 
hind this  boulder  came  a  big  porcupine. 

There  is  a  law  throughout  the  North  that  a  man 
shall  not  kill  a  porcupine.  He  is  the  "lost  man's 
friend,"  for  the  wandering  and  starving  prospector 
or  hunter  can  nearly  always  find  a  porcupine,  if 
nothing  else;  and  a  child  can  kill  him.  He  is  the 
humourist  of  the  wilderness — the  happiest,  the  best- 
natured,  and  altogether  the  mildest-mannered  beast 
that  ever  drew  breath.  He  talks  and  chatters  and 
chuckles  incessantly,  and  when  he  travels  he  walks 
like  a  huge  animated  pincushion;  he  is  oblivious  of 
everything  about  him  as  though  asleep. 


THE  GRIZZLY  107 

As  this  particular  "porky"  advanced  upon  Muskwa 
and  Thor,  he  was  communing  happily  with  himself, 
the  chuckling  notes  he  made  sounding  very  much 
like  a  baby's  cooing.  He  was  enormously  fat,  and 
as  he  waddled  slowly  along  his  side  and  tail  quills 
clicked  on  the  stones.  His  eyes  were  on  the  path  at 
his  feet.  He  was  deeply  absorbed  in  nothing  at  all, 
and  he  was  within  five  feet  of  Thor  before  he  saw 
the  grkzly.  Then,  in  a  wink,  he  humped  himself 
into  a  ball.  For  a  few  seconds  he  scolded  vocif- 
erously. After  that  he  was  as  silent  as  a  sphinx, 
his  little  red  eyes  watching  the  big  bear. 

Thor  did  not  want  to  kill  him,  but  the  path  was 
narrow,  and  he  was  ready  to  go  on.  He  advanced  a 
foot  or  two,  and  Porky  turned  his  back  toward  Thor 
and  made  ready  to  deliver  a  swipe  with  his  powerful 
tail.  In  that  tail  were  several  hundred  quills.  As 
Thor  had  more  than  once  come  into  contact  with 
porcupine  quills,  he  hesitated. 

Muskwa  was  looking  on  curiously.  He  still  had 
his  lesson  to  learn,  for  the  quill  he  had  once  picked 
up  in  his  foot  had  been  a  loose  quill.  But  since  the 
porcupine  seemed  to  puzzle  Thor,  the  cub  turned 
and  made  ready  to  go  back  along  the  slide  if  it  be- 


108  THE  GRIZZLY 

came  necessary.  Thor  advanced  another  foot,  and 
with  a  sudden  chuck,  chuck,  chuck — the  most  vicious 
sound  he  was  capable  of  making — Porky  advanced 
backward  and  his  broad,  thick  tail  whipped  through 
the  air  with  a  force  that  would  have  driven  quills  a 
quarter  of  an  inch  into  the  butt  of  a  tree.  Having 
missed,  he  humped  himself  again,  and  Thor  stepped 
out  on  the  boulder  and  circled  around  him.  There 
he  waited  for  Muskwa. 

Porky  was  immensely  satisfied  with  his  triumph. 
He  unlimbered  himself;  his  quills  settled  a  bit;  and 
he  advanced  toward  Muskwa,  at  the  same  time  re 
sliming  his  good-natured  chuckling.  Instinctively 
the  cub  hugged  the  edge  of  the  path,  and  in  doing  so 
slipped  over  the  edge.  By  the  time  he  had  scrambled 
up  again  Porky  was  four  or  five  feet  beyond  him 
and  totally  absorbed  in  his  travel. 

The  adventure  of  the  sheep-trail  was  not  yet 
quite  over,  for  scarcely  had  Porky  maneuvered  him- 
self to  safety  when  around  the  edge  of  the  big 
boulder  above  appeared  a  badger,  hot  on  the  fresh 
and  luscious  scent  of  his  favourite  dinner,  a  porcu- 
pine. This  worthless  outlaw  of  the  mountains  was 
three  times  as  large  as  Muskwa,  and  every  ounce  of 


THE  GRIZZLY  109 

him  was  fighting  muscle  and  bone  and  claw  and 
sharp  teeth.  He  had  a  white  mark  on  his  nose  and 
forehead;  his  legs  were  short  and  thick;  his  tail  was 
bushy,  and  the  claws  on  his  front  feet  were  almost  as 
long  as  a  bear's.  Thor  greeted  him  with  an  im- 
mediate growl  of  warning,  and  the  badger  scooted 
back  up  the  trail  in  fear  of  his  life. 

Meanwhile  Porky  lumbered  slowly  along  in  quest 
of  new  feeding-grounds,  talking  and  singing  to  him- 
self, forgetting  entirely  what  had  happened  a  min- 
ute or  two  before,  and  unconscious  of  the  fact  that 
Thor  had  saved  him  from  a  death  as  certain  as 
though  he  had  fallen  over  a  thousand-foot  precipice. 

For  nearly  a  mile  Thor  and  Muskwa  followed  the 
Bighorn  Highway  before  its  winding  course  brought 
them  at  last  to  the  very  top  of  the  range.  They 
were  fully  three-quarters  of  a  mile  above  the  creek- 
bottom,  and  so  narrow  in  places  was  the  crest  of  the 
mountain  along  which  the  sheep-trail  led  that  they 
could  look  down  into  both  valleys. 

To  Muskwa  it  was  all  a  greenish  golden  haze  below 
him;  the  depths  seemed  illimitable;  the  forest  along 
the  stream  was  only  a  black  streak,  and  the  park- 
like clumps  of  balsams  and  cedars  on  the  farther 


110  THE  GRIZZLY 

slopes  looked  like  very  small  bosks  of  thorn  or  buffalo 
willow. 

Up  here  the  wind  was  blowing,  too.  It  whipped 
him  with  a  strange  fierceness,  and  half  a  dozen  times 
he  felt  the  mysterious  and  very  unpleasant  chill  of 
snow  under  his  feet.  Twice  a  great  bird  swooped 
near  him.  It  was  the  biggest  bird  he  had  ever  seen 
— an  eagle.  The  second  time  it  came  so  near  that 
he  heard  the  beat  of  it,  and  saw  its  great,  fierce  head 
and  lowering  talons. 

Thor  whirled  toward  the  eagle  and  growled.  If 
Muskwa  had  been  alone,  the  cub  would  have  gop? 
sailing  off  in  those  murderous  talons.  As  it  was, 
the  third  time  the  eagle  circled  it  was  down  the  slope 
from  them.  It  was  after  other  game.  The  scent 
of  the  game  came  to  Thor  and  Muskwa,  and  they 
stopped. 

Perhaps  a  hundred  yards  below  them  was  a  shelv- 
ing slide  of  soft  shale,  and  on  this  shale,  basking  in 
the  warm  sun  after  their  morning's  feed  lower  down, 
was  a  band  of  sheep.  There  were  twenty  or  thirty 
of  them,  mostly  ewes  and  their  lambs.  Three  huge 
old  rams  were  lying  on  a  patch  of  snow  farther  to  the 
east. 


THE  GRIZZLY  111 

With  his  six-foot  wings  spread  out  like  twin  fans, 
the  eagle  continued  to  circle.  He  was  as  silent  as  a 
feather  floating  with  the  wind.  The  ewes  and  even 
the  old  bighorns  were  unconscious  of  his  presence  over 
them.  Most  of  the  lambs  were  lying  close  to  their 
mothers,  but  two  or  three  of  a  livelier  turn  of  mind 
were  wandering  over  the  shale  and  occasionally  hop- 
ping about  in  playful  frolic. 

The  eagle's  fierce  eyes  were  upon  these  youngsters. 
Suddenly  he  drifted  farther  away — a  full  rifle-shot 
distance  straight  in  the  face  of  the  wind;  then  he 
swung  gracefully,  and  came  back  with  the  wind. 
And  as  he  came,  his  wings  apparently  motionless,  he 
gathered  greater  and  greater  speed,  and  shot  like  a 
rocket  straight  for  the  lambs.  He  seemed  to  have 
come  and  gone  like  a  great  shadow,  and  just  one 
plaintive,  agonized  bleat  marked  his  passing — and 
two  little  lambs  were  left  where  there  had  been  three. 

There  was  instant  commotion  on  the  slide.  The 
ewes  began  to  run  back  and  forth  and  bleat  excitedly. 
The  three  rams  sprang  up  and  stood  like  rocks,  their 
huge  battlemented  heads  held  high  as  they  scanned 
the  depths  below  them  and  the  peaks  above  for  new 
danger. 


112  THE  GRIZZLY 

One  of  them  saw  Thor,  and  the  deep,  grating  bleat 
of  warning  that  rattled  out  of  his  throat  a  hunter 
could  have  heard  a  mile  away.  As  he  gave  his 
danger  signal  he  started  down  the  slide,  and  in  an- 
other moment  an  avalanche  of  hoofs  was  clattering 
down  the  steep  shale  slope,  loosening  small  stone? 
and  boulders  that  went  tumbling  and  crashing  down 
the  mountain  with  a  din  that  steadily  increased  ai 
they  set  others  in  motion  on  the  way.  This  was  all 
mighty  interesting  to  Muskwa,  and  he  would  have 
stood  for  a  long  time  looking  down  for  other  things 
to  happen  if  Thor  had  not  led  him  on. 

After  a  time  the  Bighorn  Highway  began  to  de- 
scend into  the  valley  from  the  upper  end  of  which 
Thor  had  been  driven  by  Langdon's  first  shots* 
They  were  now  six  or  eight  miles  north  of  the  timber 
in  which  the  hunters  had  made  their  permanent 
camp,  and  headed  for  the  lower  tributaries  of  the 
Skeena. 

Another  hour  of  travel,  and  the  bare  shale  and 
gray  crags  were  above  them  again,  and  they  were 
on  the  green  slopes.  After  the  rocks,  and  the  cold 
winds,  and  the  terrible  glare  he  had  seen  in  the  eagle's 
eyes,  the  warm  and  lovely  valley  into  which  they 


THE  GRIZZLY  113 

were  descending  lower  and  lower  was  a  paradise  to 
Muskwa. 

It  was  evident  that  Thor  had  something  in  his 
mind.  He  was  not  rambling  now.  He  cut  off  the 
ends  and  the  bulges  of  the  slopes.  With  his  head 
hunched  low  he  travelled  steadily  northward,  and 
a  compass  could  not  have  marked  out  a  straighter 
line  for  the  lower  waters  of  the  Skeena.  He  was 
tremendously  businesslike,  and  Muskwa,  tagging 
bravely  along  behind,  wondered  if  he  were  never  go- 
ing to  stop;  if  there  could  be  anything  in  the  whole 
wide  world  finer  for  a  big  grizzly  and  a  little  tan- 
faced  cub  than  these  wonderful  sunlit  slopes  which 
Thor  seemed  in  such  great  haste  to  leave. 


CHAPTER  TEN 

IF  IT  had  not  been  for  Langdon,  this  day  of  the 
fight  between  the  two  bears  would  have  held  still 
greater  excitement  and  another  and  deadlier 
peril  for  Thor  and  Muskwa.  Three  minutes  after 
the  hunters  had  arrived  breathless  and  sweating 
upon  the  scene  of  the  sanguinary  conflict  Bruce  was 
ready  and  anxious  to  continue  the  pursuit  of  Thor. 
He  knew  the  big  grizzly  could  not  be  far  away;  he 
was  certain  that  Thor  had  gone  up  the  mountain. 
He  found  signs  of  the  grizzly's  feet  in  the  gravel  of 
the  coulee  at  just  about  the  time  Thor  and  the  tan- 
faced  cub  struck  the  Bighorn  Highway. 

His  arguments  failed  to  move  Langdon.  Stirred 
to  the  depth  of  his  soul  by  what  he  had  seen,  and 
what  he  saw  about  him  now,  the  hunter-naturalist 
refused  to  leave  the  bloodstained  and  torn-up  arena 
in  which  the  grizzly  and  the  black  had  fought  their 
duel. 

"If  I  knew  that  I  was  not  going  to  fire  a  single 

in 


THE  GRIZZLY  115 

shot,  I  would  travel  five  thousand  miles  to  see  this," 
he  said.  "It's  worth  thinking  about,  and  looking 
over,  Bruce.  The  grizzly  won't  spoil.  This  will 
— in  a  few  hours.  If  there's  a  story  here  we  can 
dig  out  I  want  it." 

Again  and  again  Langdon  went  over  the  battle- 
field, noting  the  ripped-up  ground,  the  big  spots  of 
dark-red  stain,  the  strips  of  flayed  skin,  and  the 
terrible  wounds  on  the  body  of  the  dead  black. 
For  half  an  hour  Bruce  paid  less  attention  to  these 
things  than  he  did  to  the  carcass  of  the  caribou.  At 
the  end  of  that  time  he  called  Langdon  to  the  edge 
of  the  clump  of  balsams. 

"You  wanted  the  story,"  he  said,  "an'  I've  got  it 
for  you,  Jimmy." 

He  entered  the  balsams  and  Langdon  followed 
him.  A  few  steps  under  the  cover  Bruce  halted 
and  pointed  to  the  hollow  in  which  Thor  had  cached 
his  meat.     The  hollow  was  stained  with  blood. 

"You  was  right  in  your  guess,  Jimmy,"  he  said. 
"Our  grizzly  is  a  meat-eater.  Last  night  he  killed 
a  caribou  out  there  in  the  meadow.  I  know  it  was 
the  grizzly  that  killed  'im  an'  not  the  black,  be- 
cause the  tracks  along  the  edge  of  the  timber  are 


116  THE  GRIZZLY 

grizzly  tracks.  Come  on.  I'll  show  you  where  'e 
jumped  the  caribou!" 

He  led  the  way  back  into  the  meadow,  and 
pointed  out  where  Thor  had  dragged  down  the  young 
bull.  There  were  bits  of  flesh  and  a  great  deal  of 
stain  where  he  and  Muskwa  had  feasted. 

"He  hid  the  carcass  in  the  balsams  after  he  had 
filled  himself,"  went  on  Bruce.  "This  morning  the 
black  came  along,  smelled  the  meat,  an'  robbed  the 
cache.  Then  back  come  the  grizzly  after  his  morn- 
ing feed,  an'  that's  what  happened!  There's  yo'r 
story,  Jimmy." 

"And — he  may  come  back  again?"  asked  Langdon. 

"Not  on  your  life,  he  won't! "  cried  Bruce.  "He 
wouldn't  touch  that  carcass  ag'in  if  he  was  starving. 
Just  now  this  place  is  like  poison  to  him." 

After  that  Bruce  left  Langdon  to  meditate  alone 
on  the  field  of  battle  while  he  began  trailing  Thor. 
In  the  shade  of  the  balsams  Langdon  wrote  for 
a  steady  hour,  frequently  rising  to  establish  new 
facts  or  verify  others  already  discovered.  Mean- 
while the  mountaineer  made  his  way  foot  by  foot 
up  the  coulee.  Thor  had  left  no  blood,  but  where 
others  would   have   seen   nothing   Bruce  detected 


THE  GRIZZLY  117 

the  signs  of  his  passing.  When  he  returned  to  where 
Langdon  was  completing  his  notes,  his  face  wore  a 
look  of  satisfaction. 

u  He  went  over  the  mount'in,"  he  said  briefly. 

It  was  noon  before  they  climbed  over  the  volcanic 
quarry  of  rock  and  followed  the  Bighorn  Highway 
to  the  point  where  Thor  and  Muskwa  had  watched 
the  eagle  and  the  sheep.  They  ate  their  lunch  here, 
and  scanned  the  valley  through  their  glasses.  Bruce 
was  silent  for  a  long  time.  Then  he  lowered  his 
telescope,  and  turned  to  Langdon. 

"I  guess  I've  got  his  range  pretty  well  figgered 
out,"  he  said.  "He  runs  these  two  valleys,  an' 
we've  got  our  camp  too  far  south.  See  that  timber 
down  there?  That's  where  our  camp  should  be. 
What  do  you  say  to  goin'  back  over  the  divide  with 
our  horses  an'  moving  up  here?" 

"And  leave  our  grizzly  until  to-morrow?" 

Bruce  nodded. 

"We  can't  go  after  'im  and  leave  our  horses  tied 
up  in  the  creek-bottom  back  there." 

Langdon  boxed  his  glasses  and  rose  to  his  feet. 
Suddenly  he  grew  rigid. 

"What  was  that?" 


118  THE  GRIZZLY 

"  I  didn't  hear  anything,"  said  Bruce. 

For  a  moment  they  stood  side  by  side,  listening. 
A  gust  of  wind  whistled  about  their  ears.  It  died 
away. 

"Hear  it!"  whispered  Langdon,  and  his  voice  was 
filled  with  a  sudden  excitement. 

"The  dogs!"  cried  Bruce. 

"Yes,  the  dogs!" 

They  leaned  forward,  their  ears  turned  to  the 
south,  and  faintly  there  came  to  them  the  distant, 
thrilling  tongue  of  the  Airedales! 

Metoosin  had  come,  and  he  was  seeking  them  in 
the  valley! 


CHAPTER  ELEVEN 

THOR  was  on  what  the  Indians  call  a  pimootao. 
His  brute  mind  had  all  at  once  added  two 
and  two  together,  and  while  perhaps  he 
did  not  make  four  of  it,  his  mental  arithmetic  was 
accurate  enough  to  convince  him  thatjstraight  north 
was  the  road  to  travel. 

By  the  time  Langdon  and  Bruce  had  reached 
the  summit  of  the  Bighorn  Highway,  and  were 
listening  to  the  distant  tongueing  of  the  dogs,  little 
Muskwa  was  in  abject  despair.  Following  Thor  had 
been  like  a  game  of  tag  with  never  a  moment's  rest. 

An  hour  after  they  left  the  sheep  trail  they  came 
to  the  rise  in  the  valley  where  the  waters  separated. 
From  this  point  one  creek  flowed  southward  into 
the  Tacla  Lake  country  and  the  other  northward  into 
the  Babine,  which  was  a  tributary  of  the  Skeena. 
They  descended  very  quickly  into  a  much  lower 
country,  and  for  the  first  time  Muskwa  encountered 
marshland,  and  travelled  at  times  through  grass  so 

119 


120  THE  GRIZZLY 

rank  and  thick  that  he  could  not  see  but  could  only 
hear  Thor  forging  on  ahead  of  him. 

The  stream  grew  wider  and  deeper,  and  in  places 
they  skirted  the  edges  of  dark,  quiet  pools  that 
Muskwa  thought  must  have  been  of  immeasurable 
depth.  These  pools  gave  Muskwa  his  first  breathing- 
spells.  Now  and  then  Thor  would  stop  and  sniff 
over  the  edge  of  them.  He  was  hunting  for  some- 
thing, and  yet  he  never  seemed  to  find  it;  and  each 
time  that  he  started  on  afresh  Muskwa  was  so  much 
nearer  to  the  end  of  his  endurance. 

They  were  fully  seven  miles  north  of  the  point 
from  which  Bruce  and  Langdon  were  scanning  the 
valley  through  their  glasses  when  they  came  to  a 
lake.  It  was  a  dark  and  unfriendly  looking  lake  to 
Muskwa,  who  had  never  seen  anything  but  sunlit 
pools  in  the  dips.  The  forest  grew  close  down  to  its 
shore.  In  places  it  was  almost  black.  Queer  birds 
squawked  in  the  thick  reeds.  It  was  heavy  with  a 
strange  odour — a  fragrance  of  something  that  made 
the  cub  lick  his  little  chops,  and  filled  him  with 
hunger. 

For  a  minute  or  two  Thor  stood  sniffing  this  scent 
that  filled  the  air.     It  was  the  smell  of  fish. 


THE  GRIZZLY  121 

Slowly  the  big  grizzly  began  picking  his  way  along 
the  edge  of  the  lake.  He  soon  came  to  the  mouth  of  a 
small  creek.  It  was  not  more  than  twenty  feet  wide, 
but  it  was  dark  and  quiet  and  deep,  like  the  lake 
itself.  For  a  hundred  yards  Thor  made  his  way  up 
this  creek,  until  he  came  to  where  a  number  of  trees 
had  fallen  across  it,  forming  a  jam.  Close  to  this 
jam  the  water  was  covered  with  a  green  scum.  Thor 
knew  what  lay  under  that  scum,  and  very  quietly 
he  crept  out  on  the  logs. 

Midway  in  the  stream  he  paused,  and  with  his 
right  paw  gently  brushed  back  the  scum  so  that  an 
open  pool  of  clear  water  lay  directly  under  him. 

Muskwa's  bright  little  eyes  watched  him  from  the 
shore.  He  knew  that  Thor  was  after  something  to 
eat,  but  how  he  was  going  to  get  it  out  of  that  pool  of 
water  puzzled  and  interested  him  in  spite  of  his 
weariness. 

Thor  stretched  himself  out  on  his  belly,  his  head 
and  right  paw  well  over  the  jam.  He  now  put  his 
paw  a  foot  into  the  water  and  held  it  there  very 
quietly.  He  could  see  clearly  to  the  bottom  of  the 
stream.  For  a  few  moments  he  saw  only  this  bot- 
tom, a  few  sticks,  and  the  protruding  end  of  a  limb. 


122  THE  GRIZZLY 

Then  a  long  slim  shadow  moved  slowly  under  him 
— a  fifteen-inch  trout.  It  was  too  deep  for  him,  and 
Thor  did  not  make  an  excited  plunge. 

Patiently  he  waited,  and  very  soon  this  patience 
was  rewarded.  A  beautiful  red-spotted  trout  floated 
out  from  under  the  scum,  and  so  suddenly  that 
Muskwa  gave  a  yelp  of  terror,  Thor's  huge  paw  sent 
a  shower  of  water  a  dozen  feet  into  the  air,  and  the 
fish  landed  with  a  thump  within  three  feet  of  the 
cub.  Instantly  Muskwa  was  upon  it.  His  sharp 
teeth  dug  into  it  as  it  flopped  and  struggled. 

Thor  rose  on  the  logs,  but  when  he  saw  that 
Muskwa  had  taken  possession  of  the  fish,  he  resumed 
his  former  position.  Muskwa  was  just  finishing  his 
first  real  kill  when  a  second  spout  of  water  shot 
upward  and  another  trout  pirouetted  shoreward 
through  the  air.  This  time  Thor  followed  quicklyfi 
for  he  was  hungry. 

It  was  a  glorious  feast  they  had  that  early  after^ 
noon  beside  the  shaded  creek.  Five  times  Thor 
knocked  fish  out  from  under  the  scum,  but  for  the 
life  of  him  Muskwa  could  not  eat  more  than  his  first 
trout. 

For  several  hours  after  their  dinner  they  lay  in  a 


THE  GRIZZLY  123 

cool,  hidden  spot  close  to  the  log-jam.  Muskwa 
did  not  sleep  soundly.  He  was  beginning  to  under- 
stand that  life  was  now  largely  a  matter  of  personal 
responsibility  with  him,  and  his  ears  had  begun  to 
attune  themselves  to  sound.  Whenever  Thor  moved 
or  heaved  a  deep  sigh,  Muskwa  knew  it.  After  that 
day's  Marathon  with  the  grizzly  he  was  filled  with 
uneasiness — a  fear  that  he  might  lose  his  big  friend 
and  food-killer,  and  he  was  determined  that  the 
parent  he  had  adopted  should  have  no  opportunity 
of  slipping  away  from  him  unheard  and  unseen. 
But  Thor  had  no  intention  of  deserting  his  little 
comrade.  In  fact,  he  was  becoming  quite  fond  of 
Muskwa. 

It  was  not  alone  his  hunger  for  fish  or  fear  of  his 
enemies  that  was  bringing  Thor  into  the  lower  coun- 
try of  the  Babine  waterways.  For  a  week  past 
there  had  been  in  him  a  steadily  growing  unrest, 
and  it  had  reached  its  climax  in  these  last  two  or 
three  days  of  battle  and  flight.  He  was  filled  with 
a  strange  and  unsatisfied  yearning,  and  as  Muskwa 
napped  in  his  little  bed  among  the  bushes  Thor's 
ears  were  keenly  alert  for  certain  sounds  and  his 
nose  frequently  sniffed  the  air.     He  wanted  a  mate. 


124  THE  GRIZZLY 

It  was  pusJcoowepesim — the  "moulting  moon" — 
and  always  in  this  moon,  or  the  end  of  the  "egg -lay- 
ing moon,"  which  was  June,  he  hunted  for  the  female 
that  came  to  him  from  the  western  ranges.  He 
was  almost  entirely  a  creature  of  habit,  and  always 
he  made  this  particular  detour,  entering  the  other 
valley  again  far  down  toward  the  Babine.  He 
never  failed  to  feed  on  fish  along  the  way,  and  the 
more  fish  he  ate  the  stronger  was  the  odour  of  him.  It 
is  barely  possible  Thor  had  discovered  that  this 
perfume  of  golden-spotted  trout  made  him  more 
attractive  to  his  lady-love.  Anyway,  he  ate  fish, 
and  he  smelled  abundantly. 

Thor  rose  and  stretched  himself  two  hours  before 
sunset,  and  he  knocked  three  more  fish  out  of  the 
water.  Muskwa  ate  the  head  of  one  and  Thor 
finished  the  rest.  Then  they  continued  their  pil- 
grimage. 

It  was  a  new  world  that  Muskwa  entered  now. 
In  it  there  were  none  of  the  old  familiar  sounds. 
The  purring  drone  of  the  upper  valley  was  gone. 
There  were  no  whistlers,  and  no  ptarmigan,  and 
no  fat  little  gophers  running  about.  The  water  of 
the  lake  lay  still,  and  dark,  and  deep,  with  black 


THE  GRIZZLY  125 

and  sunless  pools  hiding  themselves  under  the  roots 
of  trees,  so  close  did  the  forest  cling  to  it.  There 
were  no  rocks  to  climb  over,  but  dank,  soft  logs, 
thick  windfalls,  and  litters  of  brush.  The  air  was 
different,  too.  It  was  very  still.  Under  their  feet 
at  times  was  a  wonderful  carpet  of  soft  moss  in  which 
Thor  sank  nearly  to  his  armpits.  And  the  forest 
was  filled  with  a  strange  gloom  and  many  mysterious 
shadows,  and  there  hung  heavily  in  it  the  pungent 
smells  of  decaying  vegetation. 

Thor  did  not  travel  so  swiftly  here.  The  silence 
and  the  gloom  and  the  oppressively  scented  air 
seemed  to  rouse  his  caution.  He  stepped  quietly; 
frequently  he  stopped  and  looked  about  him,  and 
listened;  he  smelled  at  the  edges  of  pools  hidden 
under  the  roots;  every  new  sound  brought  him  to 
a  stop,  his  head  hung  low  and  his  ears  alert. 

Several  times  Muskwa  saw  shadowy  things 
floating  through  the  gloom.  They  were  the  big 
gray  owls  that  turned  snow  white  in  winter.  And 
once,  when  it  was  almost  dark,  they  came  upon  a 
pop-eyed,  loose-jointed,  fierce-looking  creature  in 
the  trail  who  scurried  away  like  a  ball  at  sight  of 
Thor.    It  was  a  lynx. 


126  THE  GRIZZLY 

It  was  not  yet  quite  dark  when  Thor  came  out 
very  quietly  into  a  clearing,  and  Muskwa  found 
himself  first  on  the  shore  of  a  creek,  and  then  close 
to  a  big  pond.  The  air  was  full  of  the  breath  and 
warmth  of  a  new  kind  of  life.  It  was  not  fish,  and 
yet  it  seemed  to  come  from  the  pond,  in  the  centre 
of  which  were  three  or  four  circular  masses  that 
looked  like  great  brush-heaps  plastered  with  a 
coating  of  mud. 

Whenever  he  came  into  this  end  of  the  valley  Thor 
always  paid  a  visit  to  the  beaver  colony,  and  oc- 
casionally he  helped  himself  to  a  fat  young  beaver 
for  supper  or  breakfast.  This  evening  he  was  not 
hungry,  and  he  was  in  a  hurry.  In  spite  of  these 
two  facts  he  stood  for  some  minutes  in  the  shadows 
near  the  pond. 

The  beavers  had  already  begun  their  night's  work. 
Muskwa  soon  understood  the  significance  of  the 
shimmering  streaks  that  ran  swiftly  over  the  surface 
of  the  water.  At  the  end  of  each  streak  was  always 
a  dark,  flat  head,  and  now  he  saw  that  most  of  these 
streaks  began  at  the  farther  edge  of  the  pond  and 
made  directly  for  a  long,  low  barrier  that  shut  in 
the  water  a  hundred  yards  to  the  east. 


THE  GRIZZLY  127 

This  particular  barrier  was  strange  to  Thor,  and 
with  his  maturer  knowledge  of  beaver  ways  he 
knew  that  his  engineering  friends — whom  he  ate 
only  occasionally — were  broadening  their  domain 
by  building  a  new  dam.  As  they  watched,  two  fat 
workmen  shoved  a  four-foot  length  of  log  into  the 
pond  with  a  big  splash,  and  one  of  them  began  pilot- 
ing it  toward  the  scene  of  building  operations,  while 
his  companion  returned  to  other  work.  A  little 
later  there  was  a  crash  in  the  timber  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  pond,  where  another  workman  had  suc- 
ceeded in  felling  a  tree.  Then  Thor  made  his  way 
toward  the  dam. 

Almost  instantly  there  was  a  terrific  crack  out 
in  the  middle  of  the  pond,  followed  by  a  tremendous 
splash.  An  old  beaver  had  seen  Thor  and  with  the 
flat  side  of  his  broad  tail  had  given  the  surface  of 
the  water  a  warning  slap  that  cut  the  still  air  like 
a  rifle-shot.  All  at  once  there  were  splashings  and 
divings  in  every  direction,  and  a  moment  later  the 
pond  was  ruffled  and  heaving  as  a  score  of  inter- 
rupted workers  dove  excitedly  under  the  surface 
to  the  safety  of  their  brush-ribbed  and  mud-plastered 
strongholds,  and  Muskwa  was  so  absorbed  in  the 


123  THE  GRIZZLY 

general  excitement  that  he  almost  forgot  to  follow 
Thor. 

He  overtook  the  grizzly  at  the  dam.  For  a  few 
moments  Thor  inspected  the  new  work,  and  then 
tested  it  with  his  weight.  It  was  solid,  and  over 
this  bridge  ready  built  for  them  they  crossed  to 
the  higher  ground  on  the  opposite  side.  A  few 
hundred  yards  farther  on  Thor  struck  a  fairly  well- 
beaten  caribou  trail  which  in  the  course  of  half  an 
hour  led  them  around  the  end  of  the  lake  to  the 
outlet  stream  flowing  north. 

Every  minute  Muskwa  was  hoping  that  Thor 
would  stop.  His  afternoon's  nap  had  not  taken 
the  lameness  out  of  his  legs  nor  the  soreness  from  the 
tender  pads  of  his  feet.  He  had  had  enough,  and 
more  than  enough,  of  travel,  and  could  he  have 
regulated  the  world  according  to  his  own  wishes  he 
would  not  have  walked  another  mile  for  a  whole 
month.  Mere  walking  would  not  have  been  so 
bad,  but  to  keep  up  with  Thor's  ambling  gait  he 
was  compelled  to  trot,  like  a  stubby  four-year-old 
child  hanging  desperately  to  the  thumb  of  a  big 
and  fast-walking  man.  Muskwa  had  not  even  a 
thumb  to  hang  to.     The  bottoms  of  his  feet  were 


THE  GRIZZLY  129 

like  boils;  his  tender  nose  was  raw  from  contact 
with  brush  and  the  knife-edged  marsh  grass,  and 
his  little  back  felt  all  caved  in.  Still  he  hung  on 
desperately,  until  the  creek-bottom  was  again  sand 
and  gravel,  and  travelling  was  easier. 

The  stars  were  up  now,  millions  of  them,  clear 
and  brilliant;  and  it  was  quite  evident  that  Thor 
had  set  his  mind  on  an  "all-night  hike,"  a  Jcuppatipsk 
pimootao  as  a  Cree  tracker  would  have  called  it. 
Just  how  it  would  have  ended  for  Muskwa  is  a  matter 
of  conjecture  had  not  the  spirits  of  thunder  and 
rain  and  lightning  put  their  heads  together  to  give 
him  a  rest. 

For  perhaps  an  hour  the  stars  were  undimmed, 
and  Thor  kept  on  like  a  heathen  without  a  soul, 
while  Muskwa  limped  on  all  four  feet.  Then  a  low 
rumbling  gathered  in  the  west.  It  grew  louder  and 
louder,  and  approached  swiftly — straight  from  the 
warm  Pacific.  Thor  grew  uneasy,  and  sniffed  in  the 
face  of  it.  Livid  streaks  began  to  criss-cross  a 
huge  pall  of  black  that  was  closing  in  on  them  like 
a  vast  curtain.  The  stars  began  to  go  out.  A 
moaning  wind  came.     And  then  the  rain. 

Thor  had  found  a  huge  rock  that  shelved  inward, 


130  THE  GRIZZLY 

like  a  lean-to,  and  he  crept  back  mnder  this  with 
Muskwa  before  the  deluge  descended.  For  many 
minutes  it  was  more  like  a  flood  than  a  rain.  It 
seemed  as  though  a  part  of  the  Pacific  Ocean  had 
been  scooped  up  and  dropped  on  them,  and  in  half 
an  hour  the  creek  was  a  swollen  torrent. 

The  lightning  and  the  crash  of  thunder  terrified 
Muskwa.  Now  he  could  see  Thor  in  great  blinding 
flashes  of  fire,  and  the  next  instant  it  was  as  black 
as  pitch;  the  tops  of  the  mountains  seemed  falling 
down  into  the  valley;  the  earth  trembled  and  shook 
—and  he  snuggled  closer  and  closer  to  Thor  until 
at  last  he  lay  between  his  two  forearms,  half  buried 
in  the  long  hair  of  the  big  grizzly's  shaggy  chest. 
Thor  himself  was  not  much  concerned  in  these  noisy 
convulsions  of  nature,  except  to  keep  himself  dry. 
When  he  took  a  bath  he  wanted  the  sun  to  be  shin- 
ing and  a  nice  warm  rock  close  at  hand  on  which 
to  stretch  himself. 

For  a  long  time  after  its  first  fierce  outbreak  the 
rain  continued  to  fall  in  a  gentle  shower.  Muskwa 
liked  this,  and  under  the  sheltering  rock,  snuggled 
against  Thor,  he  felt  very  comfortable  and  easily 
fell   asleep.     Through   long   hours   Thor   kept   his 


THE  GRIZZLY  131 

*rigil  alone,  drowsing  now  and  then,  but  kept  from 
sound  slumber  by  the  restlessness  that  was  in  him. 

It  stopped  raining  soon  after  midnight,  but  it 
was  very  dark,  the  stream  was  flooding  over  its 
bars,  and  Thor  remained  under  the  rock.  Muskwa 
had  a  splendid  sleep. 

Day  had  come  when  Thor's  stirring  roused  Muskwa. 
He  followed  the  grizzly  out  into  the  open,  feeling 
tremendously  better  than  last  night,  though  his 
feet  were  still  sore  and  his  body  was  stiff. 

Thor  began  to  follow  the  creek  again.  Along  this 
stream  there  were  low  flats  and  many  small  bayous 
where  grew  luxuriantly  the  tender  grass  and  roots, 
and  especially  the  slim  long-stemmed  lilies  on  which 
Thor  was  fond  of  feeding.  But  for  a  thousand- 
pound  grizzly  to  fill  up  on  such  vegetarian  dainties 
as  these  consumed  many  hours,  if  not  one's  whole 
time,  and  Thor  considered  that  he  had  no  time  to 
lose.  Thor  was  a  most  ardent  lover  when  he  loved 
at  all,  which  was  only  a  few  days  out  of  the  year; 
and  during  these  days  he  twisted  his  mode  of  living 
around  so  that  while  the  spirit  possessed  him  he  no 
longer  existed  for  the  sole  purpose  of  eating  and 
growing  fat.     For  a  short  time  he  put  aside  his  habit 


132  THE  GRIZZLY 

of  living  to  eat,  and  ate  to  live;  and  poor  Muskwa 
was  almost  famished  before  another  dinner  was 
forthcoming. 

But  at  last,  early  in  the  afternoon,  Thor  came  to  a 
pool  which  he  could  not  pass.  It  was  not  a  dozen 
feet  in  width,  and  it  was  alive  with  trout.  The  fish 
had  not  been  able  to  reach  the  lake  above,  and  they 
had  waited  too  long  after  the  flood-season  to  descend 
into  the  deeper  waters  of  the  Babine  and  the  Skeena. 
They  had  taken  refuge  in  this  pool,  which  was  now 
about  to  become  a  death-trap. 

At  one  end  the  water  was  two  feet  deep;  at  the 
other  end  only  a  few  inches.  After  pondering  ovel 
this  fact  for  a  few  moments,  the  grizzly  waded  openly 
into  the  deepest  part,  and  from  the  bank  above 
Muskwa  saw  the  shimmering  trout  darting  into 
the  shallower  water.  Thor  advanced  slowly,  and 
now,  when  he  stood  in  less  than  eight  inches  of 
water,  the  panic-stricken  fish  one  after  another  tried 
to  escape  back  into  the  deeper  part  of  the  pool. 

Again  and  again  Thor's  big  right  paw  swept  up 
great  showers  of  water.  The  first  inundation 
knocked  Muskwa  off  his  feet.  But  with  it  came  a 
two-pound  trout  which  the  cub  quickly  dragged  out 


THE  GRIZZLY  133 

of  range  and  began  eating.  So  agitated  became  the 
pool  because  of  the  mighty  strokes  of  Thor's  paw 
that  the  trout  completely  lost  their  heads,  and  no 
sooner  did  they  reach  one  end  than  they  turned 
about  and  darted  for  the  other.  They  kept  this  up 
until  the  grizzly  had  thrown  fully  a  dozen  of  their 
number  ashore. 

So  absorbed  was  Muskwa  in  his  fish,  and  Thor  in 
his  fishing,  that  neither  had  noticed  a  visitor.  Both 
saw  him  at  about  the  same  time,  and  for  fully  thirty 
seconds  they  stood  and  stared,  Thor  in  his  pool  and 
the  cub  over  his  fish,  utter  amazement  robbing 
them  of  the  power  of  movement.  The  visitor  was 
another  grizzly,  and  as  coolly  as  though  he  had 
done  the  fishing  himself  he  began  eating  the  fish 
which  Thor  had  thrown  out!  A  worse  insult  or  a 
deadlier  challenge  could  not  have  been  known  in 
the  land  of  Beardom.  Even  Muskwa  sensed  that 
fact.  He  looked  expectantly  at  Thor.  There  was 
going  to  be  another  fight,  and  he  licked  his  little 
chops  in  anticipation. 

Thor  came  up  out  of  the  pool  slowly.  On  the 
bank  he  paused.  The  grizzlies  gazed  at  each  other, 
the  newcomer  crunching  a  fish  as  he  looked.     Neither 


134  THE  GRIZZLY 

growled.  Muskwa  perceived  no  signs  of  enmity* 
and  then  to  his  increased  astonishment  Thor  began 
eating  a  fish  within  three  feet  of  the  interloper! 

Perhaps  man  is  the  finest  of  all  God's  creations, 
but  when  it  comes  to  his  respect  for  old  age  he  is  no 
better,  and  sometimes  not  as  good,  as  a  grizzly  bear; 
for  Thor  would  not  rob  an  old  bear,  he  would  not 
fight  an  old  bear,  and  he  would  not  drive  an  old  bear 
from  his  own  meat — which  is  more  than  can  be 
said  of  some  humans.  And  the  visitor  was  an  old 
bear,  and  a  sick  bear  as  well.  He  stood  almost  as 
high  as  Thor,  but  he  was  so  old  that  he  was  only  half 
as  broad  across  the  chest,  and  his  neck  and  head 
were  grotesquely  thin.  The  Indians  have  a  name 
for  him.  Kuyas  Wapusfc  they  call  him — the  bear 
so  old  he  is  about  to  die.  They  let  him  go  unharmed; 
other  bears  tolerate  him  and  let  him  eat  their  meat 
if  he  chances  along;  the  white  man  kills  him. 

This  old  bear  was  famished.  His  claws  were  gone; 
his  hair  was  thin,  and  in  some  places  his  skin  was 
naked,  and  he  had  barely  more  than  red,  hard  gums 
to  chew  with.  If  he  lived  until  autumn  he  would 
den  up — for  the  last  time.  Perhaps  death  would 
come  even  sooner  than  that.    If  so,  Kuyas  Wapusk 


THE  GRIZZLY  135 

would  know  in  time,  and  he  would  crawl  off  into 
some  hidden  cave  or  deep  crevice  in  the  rocks  to 
breathe  his  last.  For  in  all  the  Rocky  Mountains, 
so  far  as  Bruce  or  Langdon  knew,  there  was  not  a 
man  who  had  found  the  bones  or  body  of  a  grizzly 
that  had  died  a  natural  death ! 

And  big,  hunted  Thor^  torn  by  wound  and  pursued 
by  man,  seemed  to  understand  that  this  would 
be  the  last  real  feast  on  earth  for  Kuyas  Wapusk — 
too  old  to  fish  for  himself,  too  old  to  hunt,  too  old 
even  to  dig  out  the  tender  lily  roots;  and  so  he  let 
him  eat  until  the  last  fish  was  gone,  and  then  went 
on,  with  Muskwa  tagging  at  his  heels. 


CHAPTER  TWELVE 

FOR  still  another  two  hours  Thor  led  Muskwa 
on  that  tiresome  jaunt  into  the  north.  They 
had  travelled  a  good  twenty  miles  since 
leaving  the  Bighorn  Highway,  and  to  the  little 
tan-faced  cub  those  twenty  miles  were  like  a  journey 
around  the  world.  Ordinarily  he  would  not  have 
gone  that  far  away  from  his  birthplace  until  his 
second  year,  and  very  possibly  his  third. 

Not  once  in  this  hike  down  the  valley  had  Thor 
wasted  time  on  the  mountain  slopes.  He  had 
picked  out  the  easiest  trails  along  the  creek.  Three 
or  four  miles  below  the  pool  where  they  had  left 
the  old  bear  he  suddenly  changed  this  procedure 
by  swinging  due  westward,  and  a  little  later  they 
were  once  more  climbing  a  mountain.  They  went 
up  a  long  green  slide  for  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  and 
luckily  for  Muskwa's  legs  this  brought  them  to  the 
smooth  plainlike  floor  of  a  break  which  took  them 
without  much  more  effort  out  on  the  slopes  of  the 

136 


THE  GRIZZLY  137 

other  valley.  This  was  the  valley  in  which  Thor  had 
killed  the  black  bear  twenty  miles  to  the  southward. 

From  the  moment  Thor  looked  out  over  the 
northern  limits  of  his  range  a  change  took  possession 
of  him.  All  at  once  he  lost  his  eagerness  to  hurry. 
For  fifteen  minutes  he  stood  looking  down  into  the 
valley,  sniffing  the  air.  He  descended  slowly,  and 
when  he  reached  the  green  meadows  and  the  creek- 
bottom  he  mooshed  along  straight  in  the  face  of 
the  wind,  which  was  coming  from  the  south  and 
west.  It  did  not  bring  him  the  scent  he  wanted — 
the  smell  of  his  mate.  Yet  an  instinct  that  was 
ittore  infallible  than  reason  told  him  that  she  was 
near,  or  should  be  near.  He  did  not  take  accident 
or  sickness  or  the  possibility  of  hunters  having  killed 
her  into  consideration.  This  was  where  he  had 
always  started  in  to  hunt  for  her,  and  sooner  or 
later  he  had  found  her.  He  knew  her  smell.  And 
he  crossed  and  recrossed  the  bottoms  so  that  it 
could  not  escape  him. 

When  Thor  was  love-sick  he  was  more  or  less 
like  a  man:  that  is  to  say,  he  was  an  idiot.  The 
importance  of  all  other  things  dwindled  into  nothing- 
ness.    His  habits,  which  were  as  fixed  as  the  stars 


138  THE  GRIZZLY 

at  other  itfmes,  took  a  complete  vacation.  He  even 
forgot  hunger,  and  the  whistlers  and  gophers  were 
quite  safe.  He  was  tireless.  He  rambled  during 
the  night  as  well  as  the  day  in  quest  of  his  lady-love. 

It  was  quite  natural  that  in  these  exciting  hours 
he  should  forget  Muskwa  almost  entirely.  At  least 
ten  times  before  sunset  he  crossed  and  recrossed 
the  creek,  and  the  disgusted  and  almost  ready-to- 
quit  cub  waded  and  swam  and  floundered  after  him 
until  he  was  nearly  drowned.  The  tenth  or  dozenth 
time  Thor  forded  the  stream  Muskwa  revolted  and 
followed  along  on  his  own  side.  It  was  not  long 
before  the  grizzly  returned. 

It  was  soon  after  this,  just  as  the  sun  was  setting, 
that  the  unexpected  happened.  What  little  wind 
there  was  suddenly  swung  straight  into  the  east,  and 
from  the  western  slopes  half  a  mile  away  it  brought 
a  scent  that  held  Thor  motionless  in  his  tracks  for 
perhaps  half  a  minute,  and  then  set  him  off  on  that 
ambling  run  which  is  the  ungainliest  gait  of  all 
four-footed  creatures. 

Muskwa  rolled  after  him  like  a  ball,  pegging  away 
for  dear  life,  but  losing  ground  at  every  jump.  In 
that   half-mile   stretch   he  would   have   lost  Thor 


THE  GRIZZLY  139 

altogether  if  the  grizzly  had  not  stopped  near  the 
bottom  of  the  first  slope  to  take  fresh  reckonings. 
When  he  started  up  the  slope  Muskwa  could  see 
him,  and  with  a  yelping  cry  for  him  to  wait  a  minute 
set  after  him  again. 

Two  or  three  hundred  yards  up  the  mountainside 
the  slope  shelved  downward  into  a  hollow,  or  dip, 
and  nosing  about  in  this  dip,  questing  the  air  as 
Thor  had  quested  it,  was  the  beautiful  she-grizzly 
from  over  the  range.  With  her  was  one  of  her  last 
year's  cubs.  Thor  was  within  fifty  yards  of  her 
when  he  came  over  the  crest.  He  stopped.  He 
looked  at  her.  And  Iskwao,  "the  female,"  looked 
at  him. 

Then  followed  true  bear  courtship.  All  haste, 
all  eagerness,  all  desire  for  his  mate  seemed  to  have 
left  Thor;  and  if  Iskwao  had  been  eager  and  yearn- 
ing she  was  profoundly  indifferent  now.  For  two 
or  three  minutes  Thor  stood  looking  casually  about, 
and  this  gave  Muskwa  time  to  come  up  and  perch 
himself  beside  him,  expecting  another  fight. 

As  though  Thor  was  a  thousand  miles  or  so  from 
her  thoughts,  Iskwao  turned  over  a  flat  rock  and 
began  hunting  for  grubs  and  ants,  and  not  to  be 


140  THE  GHIZZLY 

outdone  in  this  stoic  unconcern  Thor  pulled  up  a 
bunch  of  grass  and  swallowed  it.  Iskwao  moved 
a  step  or  two,  and  Thor  moved  a  step  or  two,  and 
as  if  purely  by  accident  their  steps  were  toward  each 
other. 

Muskwa  was  puzzled.  The  older  cub  was  puzzled. 
They  sat  on  their  haunches  like  two  dogs,  one  three 
times  as  big  as  the  other,  and  wondered  what  was 
going  to  happen. 

It  took  Thor  and  Iskwao  five  minutes  to  arrive 
within  five  feet  of  each  other,  and  then  very  deco- 
rously they  smelled  noses. 

The  year-old  cub  joined  the  family  circle.  He  was 
of  just  the  right  age  to  have  an  exceedingly  long 
name,  for  the  Indians  called  him  Pipoonaskoos-* 
"the  yearling."  He  came  boldly  up  to  Thor  and 
his  mother.  For  a  moment  Thor  did  not  seem  to 
notice  him.  Then  his  long  right  arm  shot  out  in  a 
sudden  swinging  upper-cut  that  lifted  Pipoonaskoos 
clean  off  the  ground  and  sent  him  spinning  two-thirds 
of  the  distance  up  to  Muskwa. 

The  mother  paid  no  attention  to  this  elimination 
of  her  offspring,  and  still  lovingly  smelled  noses  with 
Thor.    Muskwa,   however,   thought   this   was   the 


THE  GRIZZLY  141 

preliminary  of  another  tremendous  fight,  and  with 
a  yelp  of  defiance  he  darted  down  the  slope  and  set 
upon  Pipoonaskoos  with  all  his  might. 

Pipoonaskoos  was  "mother's  boy."  That  is,  he 
was  one  of  those  cubs  who  persist  in  following  their 
mothers  through  a  second  season,  instead  of  strik- 
ing out  for  themselves.  He  had  nursed  until  he 
was  €ive  months  old;  his  parent  had  continued  to 
hunt  tidbits  for  him;  he  was  fat,  and  sleek,  and  soft; 
he  was,  in  fact,  a  "Willie"  of  the  mountains. 

On  the  other  hand,  a  few  days  had  put  a  lot  of 
real  mettle  into  Muskwa,  and  though  he  was  only 
a  third  as  large  as  Pipoonaskoos,  and  his  feet  were 
sore,  and  his  back  ached,  he  landed  on  the  other  cub 
like  a  shot  out  of  a  gun. 

Still  dazed  by  the  blow  of  Thor's  paw,  Pipoonas- 
koos gave  a  yelping  call  to  his  mother  for  help  at 
this  sudden  onslaught.  He  had  never  been  in  a  fight, 
and  he  rolled  over  on  his  back  and  side,  kicking 
and  scratching  and  yelping  as  Muskwa's  needle-like 
teeth  sank  again  and  again  into  his  tender  hide. 

Luckily  Muskwa  got  him  once  by  the  nose,  and 
bit  deep,  and  if  there  was  any  sand  at  all  in  Willie 
Pipoonaskoos  this  took  it  out  of  him,  and  while 


142  THE  GRIZZLY 

Muskwa  held  on  for  dear  life  he  let  out  a  steady 
stream  of  yelps,  informing  his  mother  that  he  was 
being  murdered.  To  these  cries  Iskwao  paid  no 
attention  at  all,  but  continued  to  smell  noses  with 
Thor. 

Finally  freeing  his  bleeding  nose,  Pipoonaskoos 
shook  Muskwa  off  by  sheer  force  of  superior  weight 
and  took  to  flight  on  a  dead  run.  Muskwa  pegged 
valiantly  after  him.  Twice  they  made  the  circle 
of  the  basin,  and  in  spite  of  his  shorter  legs,  Muskwa 
was  a  close  second  in  the  race  when  Pipoonaskoos, 
turning  an  affrighted  glance  sidewise  for  an  instant, 
hit  against  a  rock  and  went  sprawling.  In  another 
moment  Muskwa  was  at  him  again,  and  he  would 
have  continued  biting  and  snarling  until  there  was 
no  more  strength  left  in  him  had  he  not  happened 
to  see  Thor  and  Iskwao  disappearing  slowly  over  the 
edge  of  the  slope  toward  the  valley. 

Almost  immediately  Muskwa  forgot  fighting. 
He  was  amazed  to  find  that  Thor,  instead  of  tearing 
up  the  other  bear,  was  walking  off  with  her.  Pi- 
poonaskoos also  pulled  himself  together  and  looked. 
Then  Muskwa  looked  at  Pipoonaskoos,  and  Pipoona- 
skoos looked  at  Muskwa.    The  tan-faced  cub  licked 


THE  GRIZZLY  143 

his  chops  just  once,  as  if  torn  between  the  prospective 
delight  of  mauling  Pipoonaskoos  and  the  more  im- 
perative duty  of  following  Thor.  The  other  gave 
him  no  choice.  With  a  whimpering  yelp  he  set  off 
after  his  mother. 

Exciting  times  followed  for  the  two  cubs.  All 
that  night  Thor  and  Iskwao  kept  by  themselves  in 
the  buffalo  willow  thickets  and  the  balsams  of  the 
creek-bottom.  Early  in  the  evening  Pipoonaskoos 
sneaked  up  to  his  mother  again,  and  Thor  lifted 
him  into  the  middle  of  the  creek.  The  second  visual 
proof  of  Thor's  displeasure  impinged  upon  Muskwa 
the  fact  that  the  older  bears  were  not  in  a  mood  to 
tolerate  the  companionship  of  cubs,  and  the  result 
was  a  wary  and  suspicious  truce  between  him  and 
Pipoonaskoos. 

All  the  next  day  Thor  and  Iskwao  kept  to  them- 
selves. Early  in  the  morning  Muskwa  began  adven- 
turing about  a  little  in  quest  of  food.  He  liked 
tender  grass,  but  it  was  not  very  filling.  Several 
times  he  saw  Pipoonaskoos  digging  in  the  soft 
bottom  close  to  the  creek,  and  finally  he  drove  the 
other  cub  away  from  a  partly  digged  hole  and  investi- 
gated for  himself.    After  a  little  more  excavating  he 


144  THE  GRIZZLY 

pulled  out  a  white,  bulbous,  tender  root  that  he 
thought  was  the  sweetest  and  nicest  thing  he  had 
ever  eaten,  not  even  excepting  fish.  It  was  the 
one  bonne  louche  of  all  the  good  things  he  would 
eventually  learn  to  eat — the  spring  beauty.  One 
other  thing  alone  was  at  all  comparable  with  it,  and 
that  was  the  dog-tooth  violet.  Spring  beauties 
were  growing  about  him  abundantly,  and  he  con- 
tinued to  dig  until  his  feet  were  grievously  tender. 
But  he  had  the  satisfaction  of  being  comfortably 
fed. 

Thor  was  again  responsible  for  a  fight  between 
Muskwa  and  Pipoonaskoos.  Late  in  the  afternoon 
the  older  bears  were  lying  down  side  by  side  in  a 
thicket  when,  without  any  apparent  reason  at  alL 
Thor  opened  his  huge  jaws  and  emitted  a  low,  steady, 
growling  roar  that  sounded  very  much  like  the  sound 
he  had  made  when  tearing  the  life  out  of  the  big 
black.  Iskwao  raised  her  head  and  joined  him  in  the 
tumult,  both  of  them  perfectly  good-natured  and 
quite  happy  during  the  operation.  Why  mating 
bears  indulge  in  this  blood-curdling  duet  is  a  mys- 
tery which  only  the  bears  themselves  can  explain. 
It  lasts  for  about  a  minute,  and  during  this  particu- 


THE  GRIZZLY  145 

far  minute  Muskwa,  who  lay  outside  the  thicket, 
thought  that  surely  the  glorious  hour  had  come 
when  Thor  was  beating  up  the  parent  of  Pipoona- 
skoos.     And  instantly  he  looked  for  Pipoonaskoos. 

Unfortunately  the  Willie-bear  came  sneaking 
round  the  edge  of  the  brush  just  then,  and  Muskwa 
gave  him  no  chance  to  ask  questions.  He  shot  at 
him  in  a  black  streak  and  Pipoonaskoos  bowled 
over  like  a  fat  baby.  For  several  minutes  they 
bit  and  dug  and  clawed,  most  of  the  biting  and 
digging  and  clawing  being  done  by  Muskwa,  while 
Pipoonaskoos  devoted  his  time  and  energy  to 
yelping. 

Finally  the  larger  cub  got  away  and  again  took 
to  flight.  Muskwa  pursued  him,  into  the  brush  and 
out,  down  to  the  creek  and  back,  halfway  up  the 
slope  and  down  again,  until  he  was  so  tired  he  had 
to  drop  on  his  belly  for  a  rest. 

At  this  juncture  Thor  emerged  from  the  thicket. 
He  was  alone.  For  the  first  time  since  last  night 
he  seemed  to  notice  Muskwa.  Then  he  sniffed  the 
wind  up  the  valley  and  down  the  valley,  and  after 
that  turned  and  walked  straight  toward  the  distant 
slopes  down  which  they  had  come  the  preceding 


146  THE  GRIZZLY 

afternoon.  Muskwa  was  both  pleased  and  perplexed. 
He  wanted  to  go  into  the  thicket  and  snarl  and 
pull  at  the  hide  of  the  dead  bear  that  must  be  in 
there,  and  he  also  wanted  to  finish  Pipoonaskoos. 
After  a  moment  or  two  of  hesitation  he  ran  after 
Thor  and  again  followed  close  at  his  heels. 

After  a  little  Iskwao  came  from  the  thicket  and 
nosed  the  wind  as  Thor  had  felt  it.  Then  she 
turned  in  the  opposite  direction,  and  with  Pipoona- 
skoos close  behind  her,  went  up  the  slope  and  con- 
tinued slowly  and  steadily  in  the  face  of  the  setting 
sun. 

So  ended  Thor's  love-making  and  Muskwa's  first 
fighting;  and  together  they  trailed  eastward  again, 
to  face  the  most  terrible  peril  that  had  ever  come 
into  the  mountains  for  four-footed  beast — a  peril 
that  was  merciless,  a  peril  from  which  there  was  no 
escape,  a  peril  that  was  fraught  with  death. 


CHAPTER  THIRTEEN 

THE  first  night  after  leaving  Iskwao  and 
Pipoonaskoos  the  big  grizzly  and  the  tan- 
faced  cub  wandered  without  sleep  under 
the  brilliant  stars.  Thor  did  not  hunt  for  meat. 
He  climbed  a  steep  slope,  then  went  down  the  shale 
side  of  a  dip,  and  in  a  small  basin  hidden  at  the 
foot  of  a  mountain  came  to  a  soft  green  meadow 
where  the  dog-tooth  violet,  with  its  slender  stem, 
its  two  lily-like  leaves,  its  single  cluster  of  five* 
petalled  flowers,  and  its  luscious,  bulbous  root  grew 
in  great  profusion.  And  here  all  through  the  night 
he  dug  and  ate. 

Muskwa,  who  had  filled  himself  on  spring  beauty 
roots,  was  not  hungry,  and  as  the  day  had  been  a 
restful  one  for  him,  outside  of  his  fighting,  he  found 
this  night  filled  with  its  brilliant  stars  quite  enjoy- 
able. The  moon  came  up  about  ten  o'clock,  and 
it  was  the  biggest,  and  the  reddest,  and  the  most 

147 


148  THE  GRIZZLY 

beautiful  moon  Muskwa  had  seen  in  his  short  life. 
It  rolled  up  over  the  peaks  like  a  forest  fire,  and 
filled  all  the  Rocky  Mountains  with  a  wonderful 
glow.  The  basin,  in  which  there  were  perhaps  ten 
acres  of  meadow,  was  lighted  up  almost  like  day. 
The  little  lake  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain  glimmered 
softly,  and  the  tiny  stream  that  fed  it  from  the 
melting  snows  a  thousand  feet  above  shot  down 
in  glistening  cascades  that  caught  the  moonlight 
like  rivulets  of  dull  polished  diamonds. 

About  the  meadow  were  scattered  little  clumps  of 
bushes  and  a  few  balsams  and  spruce,  as  if  set  there 
for  ornamental  purposes;  and  on  one  side  there 
was  a  narrow,  verdure-covered  slide  that  sloped  up- 
ward for  a  third  of  a  mile,  and  at  the  top  of  which, 
unseen  by  Muskwa  and  Thor,  a  band  of  sheep  were 
sleeping. 

Muskwa  wandered  about,  always  near  Thor,  in- 
vestigating the  clumps  of  bushes,  the  dark  shadows 
of  the  balsams  and  spruce,  and  the  edge  of  the  lake. 
Here  he  found  a  plashet  of  soft  mud  which  was  a 
great  solace  to  his  sore  feet.  Twenty  times  during 
the  night  he  waded  in  the  mud. 

Even  when  the  dawn  came  Thor  seemed  to  be 


THE  GRIZZLY  149 

in  no  great  haste  to  leave  the  basin.  Until  the 
sun  was  well  up  he  continued  to  wander  about  the 
meadow  and  the  edge  of  the  lake,  digging  up  oc- 
casional roots,  and  eating  tender  grass.  This  did 
not  displease  Muskwa,  who  made  his  breakfast 
of  the  dog-tooth  violet  bulbs.  The  one  matter 
that  puzzled  him  was  why  Thor  did  not  go  into 
the  lake  and  throw  out  trout,  for  he  yet  had  to 
learn  that  all  water  did  not  contain  fish.  At  last 
he  went  fishing  for  himself,  and  succeeded  in  getting 
a  black  hard-shelled  water  beetle  that  nipped  his 
nose  with  a  pair  of  needle-like  pincers  and  brought  a 
yelp  from  him. 

It  was  perhaps  ten  o'clock,  and  the  sun-filled 
basin  was  like  a  warm  oven  to  a  thick-coated  bear, 
when  Thor  searched  up  among  the  rocks  near  the 
waterfall  until  he  found  a  place  that  was  as  cool  as 
an  old-fashioned  cellar.  It  was  a  miniature  cavern. 
All  about  it  the  slate  and  sandstone  was  of  a  dark 
and  clammy  wet  from  a  hundred  little  trickles  of 
snow  water  that  ran  down  from  the  peaks. 

It  was  just  the  sort  of  a  place  Thor  loved  on  a 
July  day,  but  to  Muskwa  it  was  dark  and  gloomy 
and  not  a  thousandth  part  as  pleasant  as  the  sun, 


150  THE  GRIZZLY 

So  after  an  hour  or  two  he  left  Thor  in  his  frigidarium 
and  began  to  investigate  the  treacherous  ledges. 

For  a  few  minutes  all  went  well — then  he  stepped 
on  a  green-tinted  slope  of  slate  over  which  a  very 
shallow  dribble  of  water  was  running.  The  water 
had  been  running  over  it  in  just  that  way  for  some 
centuries,  and  the  shelving  slate  was  worn  as  smooth 
as  the  surface  of  a  polished  pearl,  and  it  was  as  slip- 
pery as  a  greased  pole.  Muskwa's  feet  went  out 
from  under  him  so  quickly  that  he  hardly  knew  what 
had  happened.  The  next  moment  he  was  on  his 
way  to  the  lake  a  hundred  feet  below.  He  rolled 
over  and  over.  He  plashed  into  shallow  pools. 
He  bounced  over  miniature  waterfalls  like  a 
rubber  ball.  The  wind  was  knocked  out  of  him. 
He  was  blinded  and  dazed  by  water  and  shock, 
and  he  gathered  fresh  speed  with  every  yard  he 
made.  He  had  succeeded  in  letting  out  half  a 
dozen  terrified  yelps  at  the  start,  and  these  roused. 
Thor. 

Where  the  water  from  the  peaks  fell  into  the 
lake  there  was  a  precipitous  drop  of  ten  feet,  and 
over  this  Muskwa  shot  with  a  momentum  that 
carried  him  twice  as  far  out  into  the  pond.     He  hit 


THE  GRIZZLY  151 

with  a  big  splash,  and  disappeared.  Down  and 
down  he  went,  where  everything  was  black  and 
cold  and  suffocating;  then  the  life-preserver  with 
which  nature  had  endowed  him  in  the  form  of 
his  fat  brought  him  to  the  surface.  He  began  to 
paddle  with  all  four  feet.  It  was  his  first  swim, 
and  when  he  finally  dragged  himself  ashore  he  was 
limp  and  exhausted. 

While  he  still  lay  panting  and  very  much  fright" 
ened,  Thor  came  down  from  the  rocks.  Muskwa's 
mother  had  given  him  a  sound  cuffing  when  he  got 
the  porcupine  quill  in  his  foot.  She  had  cuffed 
him  for  every  accident  he  had  had,  because  she 
believed  that  cuffing  was  good  medicine.  Education 
is  largely  cuffed  into  a  bear  cub,  and  she  would 
have  given  him  a  fine  cuffing  now.  But  Thor  only 
smelled  of  him,  saw  that  he  was  all  right,  and  began 
to  dig  up  a  dog-tooth  violet. 

He  had  not  finished  the  violet  when  suddenly 
he  stopped.  For  a  half-minute  he  stood  like  a 
statue.  Muskwa  jumped  and  shook  himself.  Then 
he  listened.  A  sound  came  to  both  of  them.  In  one 
slow,  graceful  movement  the  grizzly  reared  himself 
to   his  full  height.     He  faced  the  north,  his  ears 


152  THE  GRIZZLY 

thrust  forward,  the  sensitive  muscles  of  his  nostrils 
twitching.     He  could  smell  nothing,  but  he  heard  ! 

Over  the  slopes  which  they  had  climbed  there 
had  come  to  him  faintly  a  sound  that  was  new  to 
him,  a  sound  that  had  never  before  been  a  part  of 
his  life.     It  was  the  barking  of  dogs. 

For  two  minutes  Thor  sat  on  his  haunches  with- 
out moving  a  muscle  of  his  great  body  except  those 
twitching  thews  in  his  nose. 

Deep  down  in  this  cup  under  the  mountain  it  was 
difficult  even  for  sound  to  reach  him.  Quickly  he 
swung  down  on  all  fours  and  made  for  the  green 
Jope  to  the  southward,  at  the  top  of  which  the 
band  of  sheep  had  slept  during  the  preceding  night. 
Muskwa  hurried  after. 

A  hundred  yards  up  the  slope  Thor  stopped  and 
turned.  Again  he  reared  himself.  Now  Muskwa  also 
faced  to  the  north.  A  sudden  downward  drift  of  the 
wind  brought  the  barking  of  the  dogs  to  them  clearly. 

Less  than  half  a  mile  away  Langdon's  pack  of 
trained  Airedales  were  hot  on  the  scent.  Their 
baying  was  filled  with  the  fierce  excitement  which 
told  Bruce  and  Langdon,  a  quarter  of  a  mile  behind 
them,  that  they  were  close  upon  their  prey. 


THE  GRIZZLY  153 

And  even  more  than  it  thrilled  them  did  the 
tongueing  of  the  dogs  thrill  Thor.  Again  it  was 
instinct  that  told  him  a  new  enemy  had  come  into 
his  world.  He  was  not  afraid.  But  that  instinct 
urged  him  to  retreat,  and  he  went  higher  until  he 
came  to  a  part  of  the  mountain  that  was  rough 
and  broken,  where  once  more  he  halted. 

This  time  he  waited.  Whatever  the  menace  was 
-"t  was  drawing  nearer  with  the  swiftness  of  the 
wind.  He  could  hear  it  coming  up  the  slope  that 
sheltered  the  basin  from  the  valley. 

The  crest  of  that  slope  was  just  about  on  a  level 
with  Thor's  eyes,  and  as  he  looked  the  leader  of  the 
pack  came  up  over  the  edge  of  it  and  stood  for  a 
moment  outlined  against  the  sky.  The  others 
followed  quickly,  and  for  perhaps  thirty  seconds 
they  stood  rigid  on  the  cap  of  the  hill,  looking 
down  into  the  basin  at  their  feet  and  sniffing  the 
heavy  scent  with  which  it  was  filled. 

During  those  thirty  seconds  Thor  watched  his 
enemies  without  moving,  while  in  his  deep  chest 
there  gathered  slowly  a  low  and  terrible  growl.  Not 
until  the  pack  swept  down  into  the  cup  of  the 
mountain,  giving  full  tongue  again,  did  he  continue 


154  THE  GRIZZLY 

his  retreat.  But  it  was  not  flight.  He  was  not 
afraid.  He  was  going  on — because  to  go  on  was  his 
business.  He  was  not  seeking  trouble;  he  had  no 
desire  even  to  defend  his  possession  of  the  meadow 
and  the  little  lake  under  the  mountain.  There 
were  other  meadows  and  other  lakes,  and  he  was  not 
naturally  a  lover  of  fighting.  But  he  was  ready  to 
fight. 

He  continued  to  rumble  ominously,  and  in  him 
there  was  burning  a  slow  and  sullen  anger.  He 
buried  himself  among  the  rocks;  he  followed  a 
ledge  with  Muskwa  slinking  close  at  his  heels;  he 
climbed  over  a  huge  scarp  of  rock,  and  twisted  among 
boulders  half  as  big  as  houses.  But  not  once  did 
he  go  where  Muskwa  could  not  easily  follow.  Once, 
when  he  drew  himself  from  a  ledge  to  a  projecting 
seam  of  sandstone  higher  up,  and  found  that  Muskwa 
could  not  climb  it,  he  came  down  and  went  another 
way. 

The  baying  of  the  dogs  was  now  deep  down  in  the 
basin.  Then  it  began  to  rise  swiftly,  as  if  on  wings, 
and  Thor  knew  that  the  pack  was  coming  up  the 
green  slide.  He  stopped  again,  and  this  time  the 
wind  brought  their  scent  to  him  full  and  strong. 


THE  GRIZZLY  155 

It  was  a  scent  that  tightened  every  muscle  in  his 
great  body  and  set  strange  fires  burning  in  him  like 
raging  furnaces.  With  the  dogs  came  also  the  man-' 
smell ! 

He  travelled  upward  a  little  faster  now,  and  the 
fierce  and  joyous  yelping  of  the  dogs  seemed  scarcely 
a  hundred  yards  away  when  he  entered  a  small 
open  space  in  the  wild  upheaval  of  rock.  On  the 
mountain-side  was  a  wall  that  rose  perpendicularly. 
Twenty  feet  on  the  other  side  was  a  sheer  fall  of  a 
hundred  feet,  and  the  way  ahead  was  closed  with 
the  exception  of  a  trail  scarcely  wider  than  Thor's 
body  by  a  huge  crag  of  rock  that  had  fallen  from 
the  shoulder  of  the  mountain.  The  big  grizzly  led 
Muskwa  close  up  to  this  crag  and  the  break  that 
opened  through  it,  and  then  turned  suddenly  back, 
so  that  Muskwa  was  behind  him.  In  the  face  of  the 
peril  that  was  almost  upon  them  a  mother-bear 
would  have  driven  Muskwa  into  the  safety  of  a 
crevice  in  the  rock  wall.  Thor  did  not  do  this. 
He  fronted  the  danger  that  was  coming,  and  reared 
himself  up  on  his  hind  quarters. 

Twenty  feet  away  the  trail  he  had  followed  swung 
sharply  around  a  projecting  bulge  in  the  perpen* 


156  THE  GRIZZLY 

dicular  wall,  and  with  eyes  that  were  now  red  and 
terrible  Thor  watched  the  trap  he  had  set. 

The  pack  was  coming  full  tongue.  Fifty  yards 
beyond  the  bulge  the  dogs  were  running  shoulder 
to  shoulder,  and  a  moment  later  the  first  of  them 
rushed  into  the  arena  which  Thor  had  chosen  for 
himself.  The  bulk  of  the  horde  followed  so  closely 
that  the  first  dogs  were  flung  under  him  as  they 
strove  frantically  to  stop  themselves  in  time. 

With  a  i*oar  Thor  launched  himself  among  them. 
His  great  right  arm  swept  out  and  inward,  and  it 
seemed  to  Muskwa  that  he  had  gathered  a  half  of 
the  pack  under  his  huge  body.  With  a  single  crunch 
of  his  jaws  he  broke  the  back  of  the  foremost  hunter. 
From  a  second  he  tore  the  head  so  that  the  wind- 
pipe trailed  out  like  a  red  rope. 

He  rolled  himself  forward,  and  before  the  remain- 
ing dogs  could  recover  from  their  panic  he  had 
caught  one  a  blow  that  sent  him  flying  over  the 
edge  of  the  precipice  to  the  rocks  a  hundred  feet 
below.  It  had  all  happened  in  half  a  minute,  and 
in  that  half-minute  the  remaining  nine  dogs  had 
scattered. 

But  Langdon's  Airedales  were  fighters.    To  the 


THE  GRIZZLY  15? 

last  dog  they  had  come  of  fighting  stock,  and  Bruce 
and  Metoosin  had  trained  them  until  they  could  be 
hung  up  by  their  ears  without  whimpering.  The 
tragic  fate  of  three  of  their  number  frightened  them 
no  more  than  their  own  pursuit  had  frightened  Thor. 

Swift  as  lightning  they  circled  about  the  grizzly, 
spreading  themselves  on  their  forefeet,  ready  to 
spring  aside  or  backward  to  avoid  sudden  rushes, 
and  giving  voice  now  to  that  quick,  fierce  yapping 
which  tells  hunters  their  quarry  is  at  bay.  This 
was  their  business — to  harass  and  torment,  to  retard 
flight,  to  stop  their  prey  again  and  again  until 
their  masters  came  to  finish  the  kill.  It  was  a  quite 
fair  and  thrilling  sport  for  the  bear  and  the  dogs. 
The  man  who  comes  up  with  the  rifle  ends  it  in  mur- 
der. 

But  if  the  dogs  had  their  tricks,  Thor  also  had 
his.  After  three  or  four  vain  rushes,  in  which  the 
Airedales  eluded  him  by  their  superior  quickness, 
he  backed  slowly  toward  the  huge  rock  beside  which 
Muskwa  was  crouching,  and  as  he  retreated  the 
dogs  advanced. 

Their  increased  barking  and  Thor's  evident  in- 
ability to  drive  them  away  or  tear  them  to  pieces 


158  THE  GRIZZLY 

terrified  Muskwa  more  than  ever.  Suddenly  he 
turned  tail  and  darted  into  a  crevice  in  the  rock 
behind  him. 

Thor  continued  to  back  until  his  great  hips  touched 
the  stone.  Then  he  swung  his  head  sidewise  and 
looked  for  the  cub.  Not  a  hair  of  Muskwa  was 
to  be  seen.  Twice  Thor  turned  his  head.  After 
that,  seeing  that  Muskwa  was  gone,  he  continued 
to  retreat  until  he  blocked  the  narrow  passage  that 
was  his  back  door  to  safety. 

The  dogs  were  now  barking  like  mad.  They 
were  drooling  at  their  mouths,  their  wiry  crests 
stood  up  like  brushes,  and  their  snarling  fangs  were 
bared  to  their  red  gums. 

Nearer  and  nearer  they  came  to  him,  challenging 
him  to  stay,  to  rush  them,  to  catch  them  if  he  could 
• — and  in  their  excitement  they  put  ten  yards  of 
open  space  behind  them.  Thor  measured  this 
space,  as  he  had  measured  the  distance  between 
him  and  the  young  bull  caribou  a  few  days  before. 
And  then,  without  so  much  as  a  snarl  of  warning, 
he  darted  out  upon  his  enemies  with  a  suddenness 
that  sent  them  flying  wildly  for  their  lives. 

Thor  did  not  stop.    He  kept  on.    Where  the 


THE  GRIZZLY  159 

rock  wall  bulged  out  the  trail  narrowed  to  five  feet, 
and  he  had  measured  this  fact  as  well  as  the  distance. 
He  caught  the  last  dog,  and  drove  it  down  under 
his  paw.  As  it  was  torn  to  pieces  the  Airedale 
emitted  piercing  cries  of  agony  that  reached  Bruce 
and  Langdon  as  they  hurried  panting  and  wind- 
broken  up  the  slide  that  led  from  the  basin. 

Thor  dropped  on  his  belly  in  the  narrowed  trail, 
and  as  the  pack  broke  loose  with  fresh  voice  he 
continued  to  tear  at  his  victim  until  the  rock  was 
Bmeared  with  blood  and  hair  and  entrails.  Then 
he  rose  to  his  feet  and  looked  again  for  Muskwa. 
The  cub  was  curled  up  in  a  shivering  ball  two  feet 
in  the  crevice.  It  may  be  that  Thor  thought  he  had 
gone  on  up  the  mountain,  for  he  lost  no  time  now  in 
retreating  from  the  scene  of  battle.  He  had  caught 
the  wind  again.  Bruce  and  Langdon  were  sweating, 
and  their  smell  came  to  him  strongly. 

For  ten  minutes  Thor  paid  no  attention  to  the 
eight  dogs  yapping  at  his  heels,  except  to  pause 
now  and  then  and  swing  his  head  about.  As  he 
continued  in  his  retreat  the  Airedales  became  bolder, 
until  finally  one  of  them  sprang  ahead  of  the  rest 
end  buried  his  fangs  in  the  grizzly's  leg. 


1G0  THE  GRIZZLY 

This  accomplished  what  barking  had  failed  to 
do.  With  another  roar  Thor  turned  and  pursued 
the  pack  headlong  for  fifty  yards  over  the  back-trail, 
and  five  precious  minutes  were  lost  before  he  con* 
tinued  upward  toward  the  shoulder  of  the  mountain. 

Had  the  wind  been  in  another  direction  the  pack 
would  have  triumphed,  but  each  time  that  Langdon 
and  Bruce  gained  ground  the  wind  warned  Thoi 
by  bringing  to  him  the  warm  odour  of  their  bodies. 
And  the  grizzly  was  careful  to  keep  that  wind  from 
the  right  quarter.  He  could  have  gained  the  top 
of  the  mountain  more  easily  and  quickly  by  quarter- 
ing the  face  of  it  on  a  back-trail,  but  this  would 
have  thrown  the  wind  too  far  under  him.  As  long 
as  he  held  the  wind  he  was  safe,  unless  the  hunters 
made  an  effort  to  checkmate  his  method  of  escape 
by  detouring  and  cutting  him  off. 

It  took  him  half  an  hour  to  reach  the  topmost 
ridge  of  rock,  from  which  point  he  would  have  to 
break  cover  and  reveal  himself  as  he  made  the  last 
two  or  three  hundred  yards  up  the  shale  side  of  the 
mountain  to  the  backbone  of  the  range. 

When  Thor  made  this  break  he  put  on  a  sudden 
epurt  of  speed  that  left  the  dogs  thirty  or  forty  yards 


THE  GRIZZLY  161 

behind  him.  For  two  or  three  minutes  he  was  clearly 
outlined  on  the  face  of  the  mountain,  and  during 
the  last  minute  of  those  three  he  was  splendidly  pro- 
filed against  a  carpet  of  pure-white  snow,  without  a 
shrub  or  a  rock  to  conceal  him  from  the  eyes  below. 

Bruce  and  Langdon  saw  him  at  five  hundred 
yards,  and  began  firing.  Close  over  his  head  Thor 
heard  the  curious  ripping  wail  of  the  first  bullet, 
and  an  instant  later  came  the  crack  of  the  rifle. 

A  second  shot  sent  up  a  spurt  of  snow  five  yards 
ahead  of  him.  He  swung  sharply  to  the  right.  This 
put  him  broadside  to  the  marksmen.  Thor  heard 
a  third  shot — and  that  was  all. 

While  the  reports  were  still  echoing  among  the 
crags  and  peaks  something  struck  Thor  a  terrific 
blow  on  the  flat  of  his  skull,  five  inches  back  of  his 
right  ear.  It  was  as  if  a  club  had  descended  upon 
uim  from  out  of  the  sky.     He  went  down  like  a  log. 

It  was  a  glancing  shot.  It  scarcely  drew  blood, 
but  for  a  moment  it  stunned  the  grizzly,  as  a  man 
is  dazed  by  a  blow  on  the  end  of  the  chin. 

Before  he  could  rise  from  where  he  had  fallen 
the  dogs  were  upon  him,  tearing  at  his  throat  and 
neck  and  body.    With  a  roar  Thor  sprang  to  his 


162  THE  GRIZZLY 

feet  and  shook  them  off.  He  struck  out  savagely, 
and  Langdon  and  Bruce  could  hear  his  bellowing 
as  they  stood  with  fingers  on  the  triggers  of  their 
rifles  waiting  for  the  dogs  to  draw  away  far  enough 
to  give  them  the  final  shots. 

Yard  by  yard  Thor  worked  his  way  upward,  snarl- 
ing at  the  frantic  pack,  defying  the  man-smell, 
the  strange  thunder,  the  burning  lightning — even 
death  itself,  and  Hve  hundred  yards  below  Langdon 
cursed  despairingly  as  the  dogs  hung  so  close  he 
could  not  fire. 

Up  to  the  very  sky-line  the  blood-thirsting  pack 
shielded  Thor.  He  disappeared  over  the  summit. 
The  dogs  followed.  And  after  that  their  baying 
came  fainter  and  fainter  as  the  big  grizzly  led  them 
swiftly  away  from  the  menace  of  man  in  a  long  and 
thrilling  race  from  which  more  than  one  was  doomed 
not  to  return. 


CHAPTER  FOURTEEN 

IN  HIS  hiding-place  Muskwa  heard  the  last 
sounds  of  the  battle  on  the  ledge.  The  crevice 
was  a  V-shaped  crack  in  the  rock,  and  he  had 
wedged  himself  as  far  back  in  this  as  he  could.  He 
saw  Thor  pass  the  opening  of  his  refuge  after  he 
had  killed  the  fourth  dog;  he  heard  the  click,  click, 
click  of  his  claws  as  he  retreated  up  the  trail;  and  at 
last  he  knew  that  the  grizzly  was  gone,  and  that  the 
enemy  had  followed  him. 

Still  he  was  afraid  to  come  out.  These  strange 
pursuers  that  had  come  up  out  of  the  valley  had 
filled  him  with  a  deadly  terror.  Pipoonaskoos  had 
not  made  him  afraid.  Even  the  big  black  bear  that 
Thor  killed  had  not  terrified  him  as  these  red-lipped, 
white-fanged  strangers  had  frightened  him.  So  he 
remained  in  his  crevice,  crowded  as  far  back  as  he 
could  get,  like  a  wad  shoved  in  a  gun-barrel. 

He  could  still  hear  the  tongueing  of  the  dogs 
when  other  and  nearer  sounds  alarmed  him.    Lang- 

163 


164  THE  GRIZZLY 

don  and  Bruce  came  rushing  around  the  bulge  in 
the  mountain  wall,  and  at  sight  of  the  dead  dogs 
they  stopped.     Langdon  cried  out  in  horror. 

He  was  not  more  than  twenty  feet  from  Muskwa. 
For  the  first  time  the  cub  heard  human  voices;  for 
the  first  time  the  sweaty  odour  of  men  filled  hi& 
nostrils,  and  he  scarcely  breathed  in  his  new  fear. 
Then  one  of  the  hunters  stood  directly  in  front  of 
the  crack  in  which  he  was  hidden,  and  he  saw  his 
first  man.     A  moment  later  the  men,  too,  were  gone. 

Later  Muskwa  heard  the  shots.  After  that  the 
barking  of  the  dogs  grew  more  and  more  distant 
until  finally  he  could  not  hear  them  at  all.  It  was 
about  three  o'clock — the  siesta  hour  in  the  moun- 
tains, and  it  was  very  quiet. 

For  a  long  time  Muskwa  did  not  move.  He 
listened.  And  he  heard  nothing.  Another  fear 
was  growing  in  him  now — the  fear  of  losing  Thor. 
With  every  breath  he  drew  he  was  hoping  that 
Thor  would  return.  For  an  hour  he  remained 
wedged  in  the  rock.  Then  he  heard  a  cheep,  cheep, 
cheep,  and  a  tiny  striped  rock-rabbit  came  out  on 
the  ledge  where  Muskwa  could  see  him  and  began 
cautiously  investigating  one  of  the  slain  Airedales. 


THE  GRIZZLY  165 

This  gave  Muskwa  courage.  He  pricked  up  his 
ears  a  bit.  He  whimpered  softly,  as  if  beseeching 
recognition  and  friendship  of  the  one  tiny  creature 
that  was  near  him  in  this  dreadful  hour  of  loneliness 
and  fear. 

Inch  by  inch  he  crawled  out  of  his  hiding-place. 
At  last  his  little  round,  furry  head  was  out,  and  he 
looked  about  him.  The  trail  was  clear,  and  he 
advanced  toward  the  rock-rabbit.  With  a  shrill 
chatter  the  striped  mite  darted  for  its  own  strong- 
hold, and  Muskwa  was  alone  again. 

For  a  few  moments  he  stood  undecided,  sniffing 
the  air  that  was  heavy  with  the  scent  of  blood,  of 
man,  and  of  Thor;  then  he  turned  up  the  mountain. 

He  knew  Thor  had  gone  m  that  direction,  and  if 
little  Muskwa  possessed  a  mind  and  a  soul  they 
were  filled  with  but  one  desire  now — to  overtake 
his  big  friend  and  protector.  Even  fear  of  dogs 
and  men,  unknown  quantities  in  his  life  until  to- 
day, was  now  overshadowed  by  the  fear  that  he  had 
lost  Thor. 

He  did  not  need  eyes  to  follow  the  trail.  It  was 
warm  under  his  nose,  and  he  started  in  the  zigzag 
ascent  of  the  mountain  as  fast  as  he  could  go.     There 


166  THE  GRIZZLY 

were  places  where  progress  was  difficult  for  his 
short  legs,  but  he  kept  on  valiantly  and  hopefully, 
encouraged  by  Thor's  fresh  scent. 

It  took  him  a  good  hour  to  reach  the  beginning 
of  the  naked  shale  that  reached  up  to  the  belt  of 
snow  and  the  sky-line,  and  it  was  four  o'clock  when 
he  started  up  those  last  three  hundred  yards  between 
him  and  the  mountain-top.  Up  there  he  believed 
he  would  find  Thor.  But  he  was  afraid,  and  he 
continued  to  whimper  softly  to  himself  as  he  dug  his 
little  claws  bravely  into  the  shale. 

Muskwa  did  not  look  up  to  the  crest  of  the  peak 
again  after  he  had  started.  To  have  done  that  it 
would  have  been  necessary  for  him  to  stop  and 
turn  sidewise,  for  the  ascent  was  steep.  And  so, 
when  Muskwa  was  halfway  to  the  top,  it  happened 
that  he  did  not  see  Langdon  and  Bruce  as  they  came 
over  the  sky-line;  and  he  could  not  smell  them,  for 
the  wind  was  blowing  up  instead  of  down.  Oblivious 
of  their  presence  he  came  to  the  snow-belt.  Joy- 
ously he  smelled  of  Thor's  huge  footprints,  and  fol- 
lowed them.  And  above  him  Bruce  and  Langdon 
waited,  crouched  low,  their  guns  on  the  ground,  and 
each  with  his  thick  flannel  shirt  stripped  off  and 


THE  GRIZZLY  167 

held  ready  in  his  hands.  When  Muskwa  was  less 
than  twenty  yards  from  them  they  came  tearing 
down  upon  him  like  an  avalanche. 

Not  until  Bruce  was  upon  him  did  Muskwa  recover 
himself  sufficiently  to  move.  He  saw  and  realized 
danger  in  the  last  fifth  of  a  second,  and  as  Bruce 
flung  himself  forward,  his  shirt  outspread  like  a  net, 
Muskwa  darted  to  one  side.  Sprawling  on  his 
face,  Bruce  gathered  up  a  shirtful  of  snow  and 
clutched  it  to  his  breast,  believing  for  a  moment  that 
he  had  the  cub,  and  at  this  same  instant  Langdon 
made  a  drive  that  entangled  him  with  his  friend's 
long  legs  and  sent  him  turning  somersaults  down  the 
snow-slide. 

Muskwa  bolted  down  the  mountain  as  fast  as 
his  short  legs  could  carry  him.  In  another  second 
Bruce  was  after  him,  and  Langdon  joined  in  ten 
feet  behind. 

Suddenly  Muskwa  made  a  sharp  turn,  and  the 
momentum  with  which  Bruce  was  coming  carried 
him  thirty  or  forty  feet  below  him,  where  the  lanky 
mountaineer  stopped  himself  only  by  doubling  up 
like  a  jack-knife  and  digging  toes,  hands,  elbows, 
and  even  his  shoulders  in  the  soft  shale. 


168  THE  GRIZZLY 

Langdon  had  switched*  and  was  hot  after  Muskwa. 
He  flung  himself  face  downward,  shirt  outspread, 
just  as  the  cub  made  another  turn,  and  when  he 
rose  to  his  feet  his  face  was  scratched  and  he  spat 
half  a  handful  of  dirt  and  shale  out  of  his  mouth. 

Unfortunately  for  Muskwa  his  second  turn  brought 
him  straight  down  to  Bruce,  and  before  he  could 
turn  again  he  was  enveloped  in  sudden  darkness 
and  suffocation,  and  over  him  there  rang  out  a 
fiendish  and  triumphant  yell. 

*%  got  'im!"  shouted  Bruce. 

Inside  the  shirt  Muskwa  scratched  and  bit  and 
snarled,  and  Bruce  was  having  his  hands  full  when 
Langdon  ran  down  with  the  second  shirt.  Very 
shortly  Muskwa  was  trussed  up  like  a  papoose. 
His  legs  and  his  body  were  swathed  so  tightly  that 
he  could  not  move  them.  His  head  was  not  covered. 
It  was  the  only  part  of  him  that  showed,  and  the 
only  part  of  him  that  he  could  move,  and  it  looked 
so  round  and  frightened  and  funny  that  for  a  minute 
or  two  Langdon  and  Bruce  forgot  their  disappoint- 
ments and  losses  of  the  day  and  laughed. 

Then  Langdon  sat  down  on  one  side  of  Muskwa, 
and  Bruce  on  the  other,  and  they  filled  and  lighted 


THE  GRIZZLY  169 

their  pipes.  Muskwa  could  not  even  kick  an  ob- 
jection. 

"A  couple  of  husky  hunters  we  are,"  said  Langdon 
then.  "Come  out  for  a  grizzly  and  end  up  with 
that!" 

He  looked  at  the  cub.  Muskwa  was  eying  him 
so  earnestly  that  Langdon  sat  in  mute  wonder  for  a 
moment,  and  then  slowly  took  his  pipe  from  his 
mouth  and  stretched  out  a  hand. 

"  Cubby,  cubby,  nice  cubby,"  he  cajoled  softly. 

Muskwa's  tiny  ears  were  perked  forward.  His 
bright  eyes  were  like  glass.  Bruce,  unobserved  by 
Langdon,  was  grinning  expectantly. 

"Cubby  won't  bite — no — no — nice  little  cubby — 
we  won't  hurt  cubby " 

The  next  instant  a  wild  yell  startled  the  mountain- 
tops  as  Muskwa's  needle-like  teeth  sank  into  one  of 
Langdon's  fingers.  Bruce's  howls  of  joy  would 
have  frightened  game  a  mile  away. 

"You  little  devil!"  gasped  Langdon,  and  then, 
as  he  sucked  his  wounded  finger,  he  laughed  with 
Bruce.  "He's  a  sport — a  dead  game  sport,"  he 
added.  "  We'll  call  him  Spitfire,  Bruce.  By  George, 
I've  wanted  a  cub  like  that  ever  since  I  first  came  into 


170  THE  GRIZZLY 

the  mountains.  I'm  going  to  take  him  home  with 
me !    Ain't  he  a  funny  looking  little  cuss?  " 

Muskwa  shifted  his  head,  the  only  part  of  him 
that  was  not  as  stiffly  immovable  as  a  mummy,  and 
scrutinized  Bruce.  Langdon  rose  to  his  feet  and 
looked  back  to  the  sky-line.  His  face  was  set  and 
hard. 

"Four  dogs!"  he  said,  as  if  speaking  to  himself. 
"Three  down  below — and  one  up  there!"  He  was 
silent  for  a  moment,  and  then  said:  "I  can't  under- 
stand it,  Bruce.  They've  cornered  fifty  bears  for 
us,  and  until  to-day  we've  never  lost  a  dog." 

Bruce  was  looping  a  buckskin  thong  about 
Muskwa's  middle,  making  of  it  a  sort  of  handle  by 
which  he  could  carry  the  cub  as  he  would  have 
conveyed  a  pail  of  water  or  a  slab  of  bacon.  Ha 
stood  up,  and  Muskwa  dangled  at  the  end  of  his 
string. 

"We've  run  up  against  a  killer,"  he  said.  "An' 
a  meat-killin'  grizzly  is  the  worst  animal  on  the 
face  of  the  earth  when  it  comes  to  a  fight  or  a  hunt, 
The  dogs'U  never  hold  'im,  Jimmy,  an'  if  it  don't 
get  dark  pretty  soon  there  won't  none  of  the  bunch 
come  back.    They'll  quit  at  dark — #  fdiere's  any 


THE  GRIZZLY  171 

left.  The  old  fellow's  got  our  wind,  an*  you  can  bet 
he  knows  what  knocked  him  down  up  there  on  the 
snow.  He's  hikin' — an'  hikin'  fast.  When  we  see 
'im  ag'in  it'll  be  twenty  miles  from  here." 

Langdon  went  up  for  the  guns.  When  he  returned 
Bruce  led  the  way  down  the  mountain,  carrying 
Muskwa  by  the  buckskin  thong.  For  a  few  mo- 
ments they  paused  on  the  blood-stained  ledge  of 
rock  where  Thor  had  wreaked  his  vengeance  upon 
his  tormentors.  Langdon  bent  over  the  dog  the 
grizzly  had  decapitated. 

"This  is  Biscuits,"  he  said.  "And  we  always 
thought  she  was  the  one  coward  of  the  bunch. 
The  other  two  are  Jane  and  Tober;  old  Fritz  is  up 
on  the  summit.  Three  of  the  best  dogs  we  had, 
Bruce!" 

Bruce  was  looking  over  the  ledge.  He  pointed 
downward. 

"There's  another' — pitched  clean  off  the  face  o* 
the  mount'in!"  he  gasped.     "Jimmy,  that's  five!" 

Langdon's  fists  were  clenched  tightly  as  he  stared 
over  the  edge  of  the  precipice.  A  choking  sound 
came  from  his  throat.  Bruce  understood  its  mean- 
ing.   From  where  they  stood  they  could  see  a  black 


172  THE  GRIZZLY 

patch  on  the  upturned  breast  of  the  dog  a  hundred 
feet  under  them.  Only  one  of  the  pack  was  marked 
like  that.  It  was  Langdon's  favourite.  He  had 
made  her  a  camp  pet. 

"It's  Dixie,"  he  said.  For  the  first  time  he  felt 
a  surge  of  anger  sweep  through  him,  and  his  face 
was  white  as  he  turned  back  to  the  trail.  "I've  got 
more  than  one  reason  for  getting  that  grizzly  now> 
Bruce,"  he  added.  "Wild  horses  can't  tear  me 
away  from  these  mountains  until  I  kill  him.  I'll 
stiok  until  winter  if  I  have  to.  I  swear  I'm  going 
to  kill  him — if  he  doesn't  run  away." 

"He  won't  do  that,"  said  Bruce  tersely,  as  he 
once  more  swung  down  the  trail  with  Muskwa. 

Until  now  Muskwa  had  been  stunned  into  sub- 
missiveness  by  what  must  have  appeared  to  him  to 
be  an  utterly  hopeless  situation.  He  had  strained 
every  muscle  in  his  body  to  move  a  leg  or  a  paw, 
but  he  was  swathed  as  tightly  as  Rameses  had  ever 
been.  But  now,  however,  it  slowly  dawned  upon 
him  that  as  he  dangled  back  and  forth  his  face 
frequently  brushed  his  enemy's  leg,  and  he  still 
had  the  use  of  his  teeth.  He  watched  his  oppor- 
tunity, and  this  came  when  Bruce  took  a  long  step 


THE  GRIZZLY  173 

down  from  a  rock,  thus  allowing  Muskwa's  body  to 
rest  for  the  fraction  of  a  second  on  the  surface  of  the 
stone  from  which  he  was  descending. 

Quicker  than  a  wink  Muskwa  took  a  bite.  It  was 
£  good  deep  bite,  and  if  Langdon's  howl  had  stirred 
the  silences  a  mile  away  the  yell  which  now  came 
from  Bruce  beat  him  by  at  least  a  half.  It  was 
the  wildest,  most  blood-curdling  sound  Muskwa  had 
ever  heard,  even  more  terrible  than  the  barking  of 
the  dogs,  and  it  frightened  him  so  that  he  released 
his  hold  at  once. 

Then,  again,  he  was  amazed.  These  queer  bipeds 
made  no  effort  to  retaliate.  The  one  he  had  bitten 
hopped  up  and  down  on  one  foot  in  a  most  unac- 
countable manner  for  a  minute  or  so,  while  the 
other  sat  down  on  a  boulder  and  rocked  back  and 
forth,  with  his  hands  on  his  stomach,  and  made  a 
queer,  uproarious  noise  with  his  mouth  wide  open. 
Then  the  other  stopped  his  hopping  and  also  made 
that  queer  noise. 

It  was  anything  but  laughter  to  Muskwa.  But 
it  impinged  upon  him  the  truth  of  one  of  two  things: 
either  these  grotesque  looking  monsters  did  not 
dare  to  fight  him,  or  they  were  very  peaceful  and 


174  THE  GRIZZLY 

had  no  intention  of  harming  him.  But  they  were 
more  cautious  thereafter,  and  as  soon  as  they  reached 
the  valley  they  carried  him  between  them,  strung 
on  a  rifle-barrel. 

It  was  almost  dark  when  they  approached  a  clump 
of  balsams  red  with  the  glow  of  a  fire.  It  was 
Muskwa's  first  fire.  Also  he  saw  his  first  horses, 
terrific  looking  monsters  even  larger  than  Thor. 

A  third  man — Metoosin,  the  Indian — came  out 
to  meet  the  hunters,  and  into  this  creature's  hands 
Muskwa  found  himself  transferred.  He  was  laid 
on  his  side  with  the  glare  of  the  fire  in  his  eyes,  and 
while  one  of  his  captors  held  him  by  both  ears,  and 
so  tightly  that  it  hurt,  another  fastened  a  hobble* 
strap  around  his  neck  for  a  collar.  A  heavy  halter 
rope  was  then  tied  to  the  ring  on  this  strap,  and  the 
end  of  the  rope  was  fastened  to  a  tree. 

During  these  operations  Muskwa  snarled  and 
snapped  as  much  as  he  could.  In  another  half- 
minute  he  was  free  of  the  shirts,  and  as  he  staggered 
on  four  wobbly  legs,  from  which  all  power. of  flight 
had  temporarily  gone,  he  bared  his  tiny  fangs  and 
snarled  as  fiercely  as  he  could. 

To  his  further  amazement  this  had  no  effect  upon 


THE  GRIZZLY  175 

his  strange  company  at  all,  except  that  the  three 
of  them — even  the  Indian — opened  their  mouths 
and  joined  in  that  loud  and  incomprehensible  din, 
to  which  one  of  them  had  given  voice  when  he 
sank  his  teeth  into  his  captor's  leg  on  the  mountain- 
side.    It  was  all  tremendously  puzzling  to  Muskwa. 


CHAPTER  FIFTEEN 

GREATLY  to  Muskwa's  relief  the  three  men 
soon  turned  away  from  him  and  began  to 
busy  themselves  about  the  fire.  This  gave 
him  a  chance  to  escape,  and  he  pulled  and  tugged  at 
the  end  of  the  rope  until  he  nearly  choked  himself  to 
death.  Finally  he  gave  up  in  despair,  and  crumpling 
himself  up  against  the  foot  of  the  balsam  he  began 
to  watch  the  camp. 

He  was  not  more  than  thirty  feet  from  the  fire. 
Bruce  was  washing  his  hands  in  a  canvas  basin* 
Langdon  was  mopping  his  face  with  a  towel.  Close 
to  the  fire  Metoosin  was  kneeling,  and  from  the  big 
black  skittle  he  was  holding  over  the  coals  came 
the  hissing  and  sputtering  of  fat  caribou  steaks,  and 
about  the  pleas  antest  smell  that  had  ever  come 
Muskwa's  way.  The  air  all  about  him  was  heavy 
with  the  aroma  of  good  things. 

When  Langdon  had  finished  drying  his  face  he 
opened  a  can  of  something.    It  was  sweetened  con* 

176 


THE  GRIZZLY  177 

densed  milk.  He  poured  the  white  fluid  into  a 
basin,  and  came  with  it  toward  Muskwa.  The  cub 
had  unsuccessfully  attempted  flight  on  the  ground 
until  his  neck  was  sore;  now  he  climbed  the  tree.  He 
went  up  so  quickly  that  Langdon  was  astonished, 
and  he  snarled  and  spat  at  the  man  as  the  basin  of 
milk  was  placed  where  he  would  almost  fall  into  it 
when  he  came  down. 

Muskwa  remained  at  the  end  of  his  rope  up  the 
tree,  and  for  a  long  time  the  hunters  paid  no  more 
attention  to  him.  He  could  see  them  eating  and  he 
could  hear  them  talking  as  they  planned  a  new 
campaign  against  Thor. 

"We've  got  to  trick  him  after  what  happened 
to-day,"  declared  Bruce.  "No  more  tracking  'im 
after  this,  Jimmy.  We  can  track  until  dooms- 
day an'  he'll  always  know  where  we  are."  He 
paused  for  a  moment  and  listened.  "Funny  the 
dogs  don't  come,"  he  said.     "I  wonder " 

He  looked  at  Langdon. 

"Impossible!"  exclaimed  the  latter,  as  he  read 
the  significance  of  his  companion's  look.  "Bruce, 
you  don't  mean  to  say  that  bear  might  kill  them  all!" 

"I've  hunted  a  good  many  grizzlies,"  replied  the 


178  THE  GRIZZLY 

mountaineer  quietly,  "but  I  ain't  never  hunted  a 
trickier  one  than  this.  Jimmy,  he  trapped  them 
dogs  on  the  ledge,  an'  he  tricked  the  dog  he  killed 
up  on  the  peak.  He's  liable  to  get  'em  all  into  a 
corner,  an'  if  that  happens " 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders  suggestively. 

Again  Langdon  listened. 

"If  there  were  any  alive  at  dark  they  should 
be  here  pretty  soon,"  he  said.  "I'm  sorry,  now—' 
sorry  we  didn't  leave  the  dogs  at  home." 

Bruce  laughed  a  little  grimly. 

"Fortunes  o'  war,  Jimmy,"  he  said.  "You  don't 
go  hunting  grizzlies  with  a  pack  of  lapdogs,  an* 
you've  got  to  expect  to  lose  some  of  them  sooner  or 
later.  We've  tackled  the  wrong  bear,  that's  all* 
He's  beat  us." 

"Beat  us?" 

"I  mean  he's  beat  us  in  a  square  game,  an'  we 
dealt  a  raw  hand  at  that  in  using  dogs  at  all.  Do 
you  want  that  bear  bad  enough  to  go  after  him  my 
way?" 

Langdon  nodded. 

"What's  your  scheme?" 

"You've  got  to  drop  pretty  idees  when  you  go 


THE  GRIZZLY  179 

grizzly  hunting,"  began  Bruce.  "And  especially 
when  you  run  up  against  a  'killer.'  There  won't 
be  any  hour  between  now  an'  denning-up  time  that 
this  grizzly  doesn't  get  the  wind  from  all  directions. 
How?  He'll  make  detours.  I'll  bet  if  there  was 
snow  on  the  ground  you'd  find  him  back-tracking 
two  miles  out  of  every  six,  so  he  can  get  the  wind 
of  anything  that's  following  him.  An'  he'll  travel 
mostly  nights,  layin'  high  up  in  the  rocks  an'  shale 
during  the  day.  If  you  want  any  more  shootin', 
there's  just  two  things  to  do,  an'  the  best  of 
them  two  things  is  to  move  on  and  find  other 
bears." 

"Which  I  won't  do,  Bruce.  What's  your  scheme 
for  getting  this  one?  " 

Bruce  was  silent  for  several  moments  before  he 
replied. 

"We've  got  his  range  mapped  out  to  a  mile,"  he 
said  then.  "It  begins  up  at  the  first  break  we 
crossed,  an'  it  ends  down  here  where  we  came  into 
this  valley.  It's  about  twenty-five  miles  up  an* 
down.  He  don't  touch  the  mount'ins  west  of  this 
valley  nor  the  mount'ins  east  of  the  other  valley, 
an'  he's  dead  certain  to  keep  on  makin'  circles  sa 


180  THE  GRIZZLY 

long  as  we're  after  him.  He's  hikin'  southward  now 
on  the  other  side  of  the  range. 

"  We'll  lay  here  for  a  few  days  an'  not  move.  Then 
we'll  start  Metoosin  through  the  valley  over  there 
with  the  dogs,  if  there's  any  left,  and  we'll  start 
south  through  this  valley  at  the  same  time.  One 
of  us  will  keep  to  the  slopes  an'  the  other  to  the 
bottom,  an'  we'll  travel  slow.     Get  the  idee? 

"That  grizzly  won't  leave  his  country,  an'  Metoo* 
sin  is  pretty  near  bound  to  drive  him  around  to  us4 
We'll  let  him  do  the  open  hunting  an'  we'll  skulks 
The  bear  can't  get  past  us  both  without  giving  one 
of  us  shooting." 

"It  sounds  good,"  agreed  Langdon.  "And  I've 
got  a  lame  knee  that  I'm  not  unwilling  to  nurse  for 
a  few  days." 

Scarcely  were  the  words  out  of  Langdon's  mouth 
when  a  sudden  rattle  of  hobble-chains  and  thf 
startled  snort  of  a  grazing  horse  out  in  the  meadow 
brought  them  both  to  their  feet. 

"Utim!"  whispered  Metoosin,  his  dark  face  aglow 
in  the  firelight. 

"You're  right — the  dogs,"  said  Bruce,  and  ho 
whistled  softly. 


THE  GRIZZLY  181 

They  heard  a  movement  in  the  brush  near  them, 
and  a  moment  later  two  of  the  dogs  came  into  the 
firelight.  They  slunk  in,  half  on  their  bellies,  and 
as  they  prostrated  themselves  at  the  hunters'  feet 
a  third  and  a  fourth  joined  them. 

They  were  not  like  the  pack  that  had  gone  out 
that  morning.  There  were  deep  hollows  in  their 
sides;  their  wiry  crests  were  flat;  they  were  hard 
run,  and  they  knew  that  they  were  beaten.  Their 
aggressiveness  was  gone,  and  they  had  the  appear- 
ance of  whipped  curs. 

A  fifth  came  in  out  of  the  night.  He  was  limping, 
and  dragging  a  torn  foreleg.  The  head  and  throat 
of  one  of  the  others  was  red  with  blood.  They  all 
lay  flat  on  their  bellies,  as  if  expecting  condemnation. 

"We  have  failed,"  their  attitude  said;  "we  are 
beaten,  and  this  is  all  of  us  that  are  left." 

Mutely  Bruce  and  Langdon  stared  at  them.  They 
listened — waited.  No  other  came.  And  then  they 
looked  at  each  other. 

"Two  more  of  them  gone,"  said  Langdon. 

Bruce  turned  to  a  pile  of  panniers  and  canvases 
and  pulled  out  the  dog-leashes.  Up  in  his  tree 
Muskwa  was  all  atremble.     Within  a  few  yards  of 


182  THE  GRIZZLY 

him  he  saw  again  the  white-fanged  horde  that  had 
chased  Thor  and  had  driven  him  into  the  rock- 
crevice.  Of  the  men  he  was  no  longer  greatly 
afraid.  They  had  attempted  him  no  harm,  and  he 
had  ceased  to  quake  and  snarl  when  one  of  them 
passed  near.  But  the  dogs  were  monsters.  They 
had  given  battle  to  Thor.  They  must  have  beaten 
him,  for  Thor  had  run  away. 

The  tree  to  which  Muskwa  was  fastened  was 
not  much  more  than  a  sapling,  and  he  lay  in  the 
saddle  of  a  crotch  five  feet  from  the  ground  when 
Metoosin  led  one  of  the  dogs  past  him.  The  Airedale 
saw  him  and  made  a  sudden  spring  that  tore  the 
leash  from  the  Indian's  hand.  His  leap  carried 
him  almost  up  to  Muskwa.  He  was  about  to 
make  another  spring  when  Langdon  rushed  forward 
with  a  fierce  cry,  caught  the  dog  by  his  collar,  and 
with  the  end  of  the  leash  gave  him  a  sound  beating. 
Then  he  led  him  away. 

This  act  puzzled  Muskwa  more  than  ever.  The 
man  had  saved  him.  He  had  beaten  the  monster 
with  the  red  mouth  and  the  white  fangs,  and  all  of 
those  monsters  were  now  being  taken  away  at  the 
end  of  ropesu 


THE  GRIZZLY  183 

When  Langdon  returned  he  stopped  close  to 
Muskwa's  tree  and  talked  to  him.  Muskwa  allowed 
Langdon's  hand  to  approach  within  six  inches  of 
him,  and  did  not  snap  at  it.  Then  a  strange  and 
sudden  thrill  shot  through  him.  While  his  head 
was  turned  a  little  Langdon  had  boldly  put  his 
hand  on  his  furry  back.  And  in  the  touch  there 
was  not  hurt!  His  mother  had  never  put  her  paw 
on  him  as  gently  as  that! 

Half  a  dozen  times  in  the  next  ten  minutes  Lang- 
don touched  him.  For  the  first  three  or  four  times 
Muskwa  bared  his  two  rows  of  shining  teeth,  but  he 
made  no  sound.  Gradually  he  ceased  even  to  bare 
his  teeth. 

Langdon  left  him  then,  and  in  a  few  moments  he 
returned  with  a  chunk  of  raw  caribou  meat.  He 
held  this  close  to  Muskwa's  nose.  Muskwa  could 
smell  it,  but  he  backed  away  from  it,  and  at  last 
Langdon  placed  it  beside  the  basin  at  the  foot  of 
the  tree  and  returned  to  where  Bruce  was  smoking. 

"Inside  of  two  days  he'll  be  eating  out  of  my 
hand,"  he  said. 

It  was  not  long  before  the  camp  became  very 
quiet.     Langdon,  Bruce,  and  the  Indian  rolled  them* 


184  THE  GRIZZLY 

selves  in  their  blankets  and  were  soon  asleep.  The 
fire  burned  lower  and  lower.  Soon  there  was  only 
a  single  smouldering  log.  An  owl  hooted  a  little 
deeper  in  the  timber.  The  drone  of  the  valley  and 
the  mountains  filled  the  peaceful  night.  The  stars 
grew  brighter.  Far  away  Muskwa  heard  the  rum- 
bling of  a  boulder  rolling  down  the  side  of  a  moun- 
tain. 

There  was  nothing  to  fear  now.  Everything 
was  still  and  asleep  but  himself,  and  very  cautiously 
he  began  to  back  down  the  tree.  He  reached  the 
foot  of  it,  loosed  his  hold,  and  half  fell  into  the  basin 
of  condensed  milk,  a  part  of  it  slopping  up  over  his 
face.  Involuntarily  he  shot  out  his  tongue  and 
licked  his  chops,  and  the  sweet,  sticky  stuff  that 
it  gathered  filled  him  with  a  sudden  and  entirely 
unexpected  pleasure.  For  a  quarter  of  an  hour  he 
licked  himself.  And  then,  as  if  the  secret  of  this 
delightful  ambrosia  had  just  dawned  upon  him,  his 
bright  little  eyes  fixed  themselves  covetously  upon 
the  tin  basin.  He  approached  it  with  commend- 
able strategy  and  caution,  circling  first  on  one  side 
of  it  and  then  on  the  other,  every  muscle  in  his  body 
prepared  for  a  quick  spring  backward  if  it  should 


THE  GRIZZLY  185 

make  a  jump  for  him.  At  last  Lis  nose  touched  the 
thick,  luscious  feast  in  the  basin,  and  he  did  not 
raise  his  head  again  until  the  last  drop  of  it  was 
gone. 

The  condensed  milk  was  the  one  biggest  factor 
in  the  civilizing  of  Muskwa.  It  was  the  missing 
link  that  connected  certain  things  in  his  lively  little 
mind.  He  knew  that  the  same  hand  that  had 
touched  him  so  gently  had  also  placed  this  strange 
and  wonderful  feast  at  the  foot  of  his  tree,  and  that 
same  hand  had  also  offered  him  meat.  He  did  not 
eat  the  meat,  but  he  licked  the  interior  of  the  basin 
until  it  shone  like  a  mirror  in  the  starlight. 

In  spite  of  the  milk,  he  was  still  filled  with  a  de- 
sire to  escape,  though  his  efforts  were  not  as  frantic 
and  unreasoning  as  they  had  been.  Experience 
had  taught  him  that  it  was  futile  to  jump  and  tug 
at  the  end  of  his  leash,  and  now  he  fell  to  chewing 
at  the  rope.  Had  he  gnawed  in  one  place  he  would 
probably  have  won  freedom  before  morning,  but 
when  his  jaws  became  tired  he  rested,  and  when  he 
resumed  his  work  it  was  usually  at  a  fresh  place  in 
the  rope.  By  midnight  his  gums  were  sore,  and 
he  gave  up  his  exertions  entirely. 


186  THE  GRIZZLY 

Humped  close  to  the  tree,  ready  to  climb  up  it 
at  the  first  sign  of  danger,  the  cub  waited  for  morn- 
ing. Not  a  wink  did  he  sleep.  Even  though  he 
was  less  afraid  than  he  had  been,  he  was  terribly 
lonesome.  He  missed  Thor,  and  he  whimpered  so 
softly  that  the  men  a  few  yards  away  could  not 
have  heard  him  had  they  been  awake.  If  Pipoona* 
skoos  had  come  into  the  camp  then  he  would  have 
welcomed  him  joyfully. 

Morning  came,  and  Metoosin  was  the  first  out 
of  his  blankets.  He  built  a  fire,  and  this  roused 
Bruce  and  Langdon.  The  latter,  after  he  had  dressed 
himself,  paid  a  visit  to  Muskwa,  and  when  he  found 
the  basin  licked  clean  he  showed  his  pleasure  by 
calling  the  others'  attention  to  what  had  happened. 

Muskwa  had  climbed  to  his  crotch  in  the  tree, 
and  again  he  tolerated  the  stroking  touch  of  Lang- 
don's  hand.  Then  Langdon  brought  forth  another 
can  from  a  cowhide  pannier  and  opened  it  directly 
under  Muskwa,  so  that  he  could  see  the  creamy  white 
fluid  as  it  was  turned  into  the  basin.  He  held  the 
basin  up  to  Muskwa,  so  close  that  the  milk  touched 
the  cub's  nose,  and  for  the  life  of  him  Muskwa  could 
not  keep  his  tongue  in  his  mouth.    Inside  of  five 


THE  GRIZZLY  187 

minutes  he  was  eating  from  the  basin  in  Langdon's 
hand!  But  when  Bruce  came  up  to  watch  the  pro- 
ceedings the  cub  bared  all  his  teeth  and  snarled. 

"Bears  make  better  pets  than  dogs,"  affirmed 
Bruce  a  Mttle  later,  when  they  were  eating  break- 
fast. "He'll  be  following  you  around  like  a  puppy 
in  a  few  days,  Jimmy." 

"I'm  getting  fond  of  the  little  cuss  already,"  re- 
plied Langdon.  "What  was  that  you  were  telling 
me  about  Jameson's  bears,  Bruce?" 

"Jameson  lived  up  in  the  Kootenay  country," 
said  Bruce.  "Reg'lar  hermit,  I  guess  you'd  call 
him.  Came  out  of  the  mountains  only  twice  a  year 
to  get  grub.  He  made  pets  of  grizzlies.  For  years 
he  had  one  as  big  as  this  fellow  we're  chasing.  He 
got  'im  when  a  cub,  an'  when  I  saw  him  he  weighed 
a  thousand  pounds  an'  followed  Jameson  wherever 
he  went  like  a  dog.  Even  went  on  his  hunts  with 
him,  an'  they  slept  beside  the  same  campfire.  Jame- 
son loved  bears,  an'  he'd  never  kill  one." 

Langdon  was  silent.     After  a  moment  he  said: 

"And  I'm  beginning  to  love  them,  Bruce.  I  don't 
know  just  why,  but  there's  something  about  bears 
that  makes  you  love  them.     I'm  not  going  to  shoot 


188  THE  GRIZZLY 

many  more — perhaps  none  after  we  get  this  dog- 
killer  we're  after.  I  almost  believe  he  will  be  my 
last  bear."  Suddenly  he  clenched  his  hands,  and 
added  angrily:  "And  to  think  there  isn't  a  province 
in  the  Dominion  or  a  state  south  of  the  Border 
that  has  a  'closed  season'  for  bear!  It's  an  outrage, 
Bruce.  They're  classed  with  vermin,  and  can 
be  exterminated  at  all  seasons.  They  can  even 
be  dug  out  of  their  dens  with  their  young — and — so 
help  me  Heaven! — I've  helped  to  dig  them  out  I 
We're  beasts,  Bruce.  Sometimes  I  almost  think 
it's  a  crime  for  a  man  to  carry  a  gun.  And  yet — I 
go  on  killing." 

"It's  in  our  blood,"  laughed  Bruce,  unmoved. 
"Did  you  ever  know  a  man,  Jimmy,  that  didn't 
like  to  see  things  die?  Wouldn't  every  mother's 
soul  of  'em  go  to  a  hanging  if  they  had  the  chance? 
Won't  they  crowd  like  buzzards  round  a  dead  horse 
to  get  a  look  at  a  man  crushed  to  a  pulp  under  a 
rock  or  a  locomotive  engine?  Why,  Jimmie,  if 
there  weren't  no  law  to  be  afraid  of,  we  humans'd 
be  killing  one  another  for  the  fun  of  it!  We  would. 
It's  born  in  us  to  want  to  kill." 

"And  we  take  it  all  out  on  brute  creation,"  mused 


THE  GRIZZLY  189 

Langdon.  "After  all,  we  can't  have  much  sympathy 
for  ourselves  if  a  generation  or  two  of  us  are  killed 
in  war,  can  we?  Mebby  you're  right,  Bruce.  In- 
asmuch as  we  can't  kill  our  neighbours  legally  when- 
ever we  have  the  inclination,  it's  possible  the  Chief 
Arbiter  of  things  sends  us  a  war  now  and  then  to 
relieve  us  temporarily  of  our  blood-thirstiness. 
Hello,  what  in  thunder  is  the  cub  up  to  now?" 

Muskwa  had  fallen  the  wrong  way  out  of  his 
crotch  and  was  dangling  like  the  victim  at  the  end 
of  a  hangman's  rope.  Langdon  ran  to  him,  caught 
him  boldly  in  his  bare  hands,  lifted  him  up  over  the 
limb  and  placed  him  on  the  ground.  Muskwa  did 
not  snap  at  him  or  even  growl. 

Bruce  and  Metoosin  were  away  from  camp  all 
of  that  day,  spying  over  the  range  to  the  westward, 
and  Langdon  was  left  to  doctor  a  knee  which  he  had 
battered  against  a  rock  the  previous  day.  He  spent 
most  of  his  time  in  company  with  Muskwa.  He 
opened  a  can  of  their  griddle-cake  syrup  and  by  noon 
he  had  the  cub  following  him  about  the  tree  and  strain- 
ing to  reach  the  dish  which  he  held  temptingly  just  out 
of  reach.  Then  he  would  sit  down,  and  Muskwa 
would  climb  half  over  his  lap  to  reach  the  syrup. 


190  THE  GRIZZLY 

At  his  present  age  Muskwa's  affection  and  con- 
fidence were  easily  won.  A  baby  black  bear  is  very 
much  like  a  human  baby:  he  likes  milk,  he  loves 
sweet  things,  and  he  wants  to  cuddle  up  close  to 
any  living  thing  that  is  good  to  him.  He  is  the 
most  lovable  creature  on  four  legs — round  and  soft 
and  fluffy,  and  so  funny  that  he  is  sure  to  keep 
every  one  about  him  in  good  humour.  More  than 
once  that  day  Langdon  laughed  until  the  tears 
came,  and  especially  when  Muskwa  made  deter- 
mined efforts  to  climb  up  his  leg  to  reach  the  dish 
of  syrup. 

As  for  Muskwa,  he  had  gone  syrup  mad.  He 
could  not  remember  that  his  mother  had  ever  given 
him  anything  like  it,  and  Thor  had  produced  nothing 
better  than  fish. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  Langdon  untied  Muskwa's 
rope  and  led  him  for  a  stroll  down  toward  the  creek. 
He  carried  the  syrup  dish  and  every  few  yards 
he  would  pause  and  let  the  cub  have  a  taste  of  its 
contents.  After  half  an  hour  of  this  manoeuvring 
he  dropped  his  end  of  the  leash  entirely,  and  walked 
camp  ward.  And  Muskwa  followed!  It  was  a 
triumph,  and  in  Langdon's  veins  there  pulsed  a 


THE  GRIZZLY  191 

pleasurable  thrill  which  his  life  in  the  open  had  never 
brought  to  him  before. 

It  was  late  when  Metoosin  returned,  and  he  was 
quite  surprised  that  Bruce  had  not  shown  up.  Dark- 
ness came,  and  they  built  up  the  fire.  They  were 
finishing  supper  an  hour  later  when  Bruce  came  in, 
carrying  something  swung  over  his  shoulders.  He 
tossed  it  close  to  where  Muskwa  was  hidden  behind 
his  tree. 

"A  skin  like  velvet,  and  some  meat  for  the  dogs," 
he  said.     "I  shot  it  with  my  pistol." 

He  sat  down  and  began  eating.  After  a  little 
Muskwa  cautiously  approached  the  carcass  that 
lay  doubled  up  three  or  four  feet  from  him.  He 
smelled  of  it,  and  a  curious  thrill  shot  through  him. 
Then  he  whimpered  softly  as  he  muzzled  the  soft 
fur,  still  warm  with  life.  And  for  a  time  after  that 
he  was  very  still. 

For  the  thing  that  Bruce  had  brought  into  camp 
and  flung  at  the  foot  of  his  tree  was  the  dead  body  of 
iittle  Pipoonaskoos! 


CHAPTER  SIXTEEN 

THAT  night  the  big  loneliness  returned  to 
Muskwa.  Bruce  and  Metoosin  were  so 
tired  after  their  hard  climb  over  the  range 
that  they  went  to  bed  early,  and  Langdon  followed 
them,  leaving  Pipoonaskoos  where  Bruce  had  first 
thrown  him. 

Scarcely  a  move  had  Muskwa  made  after  the 
discovery  that  had  set  his  heart  beating  a  little 
faster.  He  did  not  know  what  death  was,  or  what 
it  meant,  and  as  Pipoonaskoos  was  so  warm  and  soft 
he  was  sure  that  he  would  move  after  a  little.  He 
had  no  inclination  to  fight  him  now. 

Again  it  grew  very,  very  still,  and  the  stars  filled 
the  sky,  and  the  fire  burned  low.  But  Pipoonaskoos 
did  not  move.  Gently  at  first,  Muskwa  began  nosing 
him  and  pulling  at  his  silken  hair,  and  as  he  did 
this  he  whimpered  softly,  as  if  saying,  "I  don't 
want  to  fight  you  any  more,  Pipoonaskoos!  Wake 
up,  and  let's  be  friends!" 

192 


THE  GRIZZLY  193 

But  still  Pipoonaskoos  did  not  stir,  and  at  last 
Muskwa  gave  up  all  hope  of  waking  him.  And  still 
whimpering  to  his  fat  little  enemy  of  the  green  meadow 
how  sorry  he  was  that  he  had  chased  him,  he  snuggled 
close  up  to  Pipoonaskoos  and  in  time  went  to  sleep. 

Langdon  was  first  up  in  the  morning,  and  when  he 
came  over  to  see  how  Muskwa  had  fared  during  the 
night  he  suddenly  stopped,  and  for  a  full  minute 
he  stood  without  moving,  and  then  a  low,  strange 
cry  broke  from  his  lips.  For  Muskwa  and  Pipoona- 
skoos were  snuggled  as  closely  as  they  could  have 
snuggled  had  both  been  living,  and  in  some  way 
Muskwa  had  arranged  it  so  that  one  of  the  dead 
cub's  little  paws  was  embracing  him. 

Quietly  Langdon  returned  to  where  Bruce  was 
sleeping,  and  in  a  minute  or  two  Bruce  returned 
with  him,  rubbing  his  eyes.  And  then  he,  too, 
stared,  and  the  men  looked  at  each  other. 

"Dog  meat,"  breathed  Langdon.  "You  brought 
it  home  for  dog  meat,  Bruce!" 

Bruce  did  not  answer,  Langdon  said  nothing 
more,  and  neither  talked  very  much  for  a  full  hour 
after  that.  During  that  hour  Metoosin  came  and 
dragged  Pipoonaskoos  away,  and  instead  of  being 


194  THE  GEIZZLY 

skinned  and  fed  to  the  dogs  he  was  put  into  a  hole 
down  in  the  creek-bottom  and  covered  with  sand 
and  stones.  That  much,  at  least,  Bruce  and  Lang- 
don  did  for  Pipoonaskoos. 

This  day  Metoosin  and  Bruce  again  went  over  the 
range.  The  mountaineer  had  brought  back  with 
him  bits  of  quartz  in  which  were  unmistakable 
signs  of  gold,  and  they  returned  with  an  outfit  for 
panning. 

Langdon  continued  his  education  of  Muskwa, 
Several  times  he  took  the  cub  near  the  dogs,  and 
when  they  snarled  and  strained  at  the  ends  of  their 
leashes  he  whipped  them,  until  with  quick  under- 
standing they  gripped  the  fact  that  Muskwa,  al- 
though a  bear,  must  not  be  harmed. 

In  the  afternoon  of  this  second  day  he  freed  the 
cub  entirely  from  the  rope,  and  he  had  no  difficulty 
in  recapturing  it  when  he  wanted  to  tie  it  up  again. 
The  third  and  fourth  days  Bruce  and  the  Indian 
explored  the  valley  west  of  the  range  and  convinced 
themselves  finally  that  the  "colours"  they  found  were 
only  a  part  of  the  flood-drifts,  and  would  not  lead  to 
fortune. 

On  this  fourth  night,  which  happened  to  be  thick 


THE  GRIZZLY  195 

with  clouds,  and  chilly,  Langdon  experimented  by 
taking  Muskwa  to  bed  with  him.  He  expected  trouble. 
But  Muskwa  was  as  quiet  as  a  kitten,  and  once  he  found 
a  proper  nest  for  himself  he  scarcely  made  a  move  un- 
til morning.  A  part  of  the  night  Langdon  slept  with 
one  of  his  hands  resting  on  the  cub's  soft,  warm  body. 

According  to  Bruce  it  was  now  time  to  continue 
the  hunt  for  Thor,  but  a  change  for  the  worse  in 
Langdon's  knee  broke  in  upon  their  plans.  It  was 
impossible  for  Langdon  to  walk  more  than  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  at  a  time,  and  the  position  he  was  compelled 
to  take  in  the  saddle  caused  him  so  much  pain  that 
to  prosecute  the  hunt  even  on  horseback  was  out  of 
the  question. 

"A  few  more  days  won't  hurt  any,"  consoled  Bruce. 
"If  we  give  the  old  fellow  a  longer  rest  he  may  get 
a  bit  careless." 

The  three  days  that  followed  were  not  without 
profit  and  pleasure  for  Langdon.  Muskwa  was 
teaching  him  more  than  he  had  ever  known  about 
bears,  and  especially  bear  cubs,  and  he  made  notes 
voluminously. 

The  dogs  were  now  confined  to  a  clump  of  trees 
fully   three   hundred   yards   from   the   camp,    and 


196  THE  GRIZZLY 

gradually  the  cub  was  given  his  freedom.  He  made 
no  effort  to  run  away,  and  he  soon  discovered  that 
Bruce  and  Metoosin  were  also  his  friends.  But 
Langdon  was  the  only  one  he  would  follow. 

On  the  morning  of  the  eighth  day  after  their 
pursuit  of  Thor,  Bruce  and  Metoosin  rode  over 
into  the  eastward  valley  with  the  dogs.  Metoosin 
was  to  have  a  day's  start,  and  Bruce  planned  to 
return  to  camp  that  afternoon  so  that  he  and  Langdon 
could  begin  their  hunt  up  the  valley  the  next  day. 

It  was  a  glorious  morning,  A  cooJ  breeze  came 
from  the  north  and  west,  and  about  nine  o'clock 
Langdon  fastened  Muskwa  to  his  tree,  saddled  a 
horse,  and  rode  down  the  valley.  He  had  no  in- 
tention of  hunting.  It  was  a  joy  merely  to  ride 
and  breathe  in  the  face  of  that  wind  and  gaze  upon 
the  wonders  of  the  mountains, 

He  travelled  northward  for  three  or  four  miles* 
until  he  came  to  a  broad,  low  slope  that  broke 
through  *he  range  to  the  westward.  A  desire  seized 
upon  him  to  look  over  into  the  other  valley,  and  as 
his  knee  was  giving  him  no  trouble  he  cut  a  zigzag 
course  upward  that  in  half  an  hour  brought  him 
almost  to  the  top. 


THE  GRIZZLY  197 

Here  he  came  to  a  short,  steep  slide  that  com- 
pelled him  to  dismount  and  continue  on  foot.  At 
the  summit  he  found  himself  on  a  level  sweep  of 
meadow,  shut  in  on  each  side  of  him  by  the  bare 
rock  walls  of  the  split  mountains,  and  a  quarter  of 
a  mile  ahead  he  could  see  where  the  meadow  broke 
suddenly  into  the  slope  that  shelved  downward 
into  the  valley  he  was  seeking. 

Halfway  over  this  quarter  of  a  mile  of  meadow 
there  was  a  dip  into  which  he  could  not  see,  and 
as  he  came  to  the  edge  of  this  he  flung  himself  sud- 
denly upon  his  face  and  for  a  minute  or  two  lay  as 
motionless  as  a  rock.  Then  he  slowly  raised  his 
head. 

A  hundred  yards  from  him,  gathered  about  a  small 
frater-hole  in  the  hollow,  was  a  herd  of  goats. 
There  were  thirty  or  more,  most  of  them  Nannies 
with  young  kids.  Langdon  could  make  out  only 
two  Billies  in  the  lot.  For  half  an  hour  he  lay  still 
and  watched  them.  Then  one  of  the  Nannies  struck 
out  with  her  two  kids  for  the  side  of  the  mountain; 
another  followed,  and  seeing  that  the  whole  band 
was  about  to  move,  Langdon  rose  quickly  to  his 
ieet  and  ran  as  fast  as  he  could  toward  them. 


198  THE  GRIZZLY 

For  a  moment  Nannies,  Billies,  and  little  kids 
were  paralyzed  by  his  sudden  appearance.  They 
faced  half  about  and  stood  as  if  without  the  power 
of  flight  until  he  had  covered  half  the  distance  be- 
tween them.  Then  their  wits  seemed  to  return  all 
at  once,  and  they  broke  in  a  wild  panic  for  the  side 
of  the  nearest  mountain.  Their  hoofs  soon  began  to 
clatter  on  boulder  and  shale,  and  for  another  half- 
hour  Langdon  heard  the  hollow  booming  of  the 
rocks  loosened  by  their  feet  high  up  among  the 
crags  and  peaks.  At  the  end  of  that  time  they 
were  infinitesimal  white  dots  on  the  sky-line. 

He  went  on,  and  a  few  minutes  later  looked  down 
into  the  other  valley.  Southward  this  valley  was 
shut  out  from  his  vision  by  a  huge  shoulder  of  rock. 
It  was  not  very  high,  and  he  began  to  climb  it.  He 
had  almost  reached  the  top  when  his  toe  caught  in 
a  piece  of  slate,  and  in  falling  he  brought  his  rifle 
down  with  tremendous  force  on  a  boulder. 

He  was  not  hurt,  except  for  a  slight  twinge  in  his 
lame  knee.  But  his  gun  was  a  wreck.  The  stock 
was  shattered  close  to  the  breech  and  a  twist  of  his 
hand  broke  it  off  entirely. 

As  he  carried  two  extra  rifles  in  his  outfit  the  mis* 


THE  GRIZZLY  199 

hap  did  not  disturb  Langdon  as  much  as  it  might 
otherwise  have  done,  and  he  continued  to  climb 
over  the  rocks  until  he  came  to  what  appeared 
to  be  a  broad,  smooth  ledge  leading  around  the 
sandstone  spur  of  the  mountain.  A  hundred  feet 
farther  on  he  found  that  the  ledge  ended  in  a  per- 
pendicular wall  of  rock.  From  this  point,  however, 
he  had  a  splendid  view  of  the  broad  sweep  of  country 
between  the  two  ranges  to  the  south.  He  sat  down, 
pulled  out  his  pipe,  and  prepared  to  enjoy  the  magnifi- 
cent panorama  under  him  while  he  was  getting  his 
wind. 

Through  his  glasses  he  could  see  for  miles,  and 
what  he  looked  upon  was  an  unhunted  country. 
Scarcely  half  a  mile  away  a  band  of  caribou  was 
filing  slowly  across  the  bottom  toward  the  green 
slopes  to  the  west.  He  caught  the  glint  of  many 
ptarmigan  wings  in  the  sunlight  below.  After  a 
time,  fully  two  miles  away,  he  saw  sheep  grazing  on 
a  thinly  verdured  slide. 

He  wondered  how  many  valleys  there  were  like, 
this  in  the  vast  reaches  of  the  Canadian  mountains 
Miat  stretched  three  hundred  miles  from  sea  to  prairie 
and    a    thousand    miles    north    and    south.     Hun- 


200  THE  GRIZZLY 

dreds,  even  thousands,  he  told  himself,  and  each 
wonderful  valley  a  world  complete  within  itself;  a 
world  filled  with  its  own  life,  its  own  lakes,  and 
streams  and  forests,  its  own  joys  and  its  own  trage- 
dies. 

Here  in  this  valley  into  which  he  gazed  was  the 
same  soft  droning  and  the  same  warm  sunshine  that 
had  filled  all  the  other  valleys;  and  yet  here,  also, 
was  a  different  life.  Other  bears  ranged  the  slopes 
that  he  could  see  dimly  with  his  naked  eyes  far  to 
the  west  and  north.  It  was  a  new  domain,  filled 
with  other  promise  and  other  mystery,  and  he  for- 
got time  and  hunger  as  he  sat  lost  in  the  enchant- 
ment of  it. 

It  seemed  to  Langdon  that  these  hundreds  or 
thousands  of  valleys  would  never  grow  old  for  him; 
that  he  could  wander  on  for  all  time,  passing  from 
one  into  another,  and  that  each  would  possess 
its  own  charm,  its  own  secrets  to  be  solved,  its  own 
life  to  be  learned.  To  him  they  were  largely  in- 
scrutable; they  were  cryptic,  as  enigmatical  as  life 
itself,  hiding  their  treasures  as  they  droned  through 
the  centuries,  giving  birth  to  multitudes  of  the 
living,   demanding  in  return   other  multitudes  of 


THE  GRIZZLY  201 

the  dead.  As  he  looked  off  through  the  sunlit 
space  he  wondered  what  the  story  of  this  valley 
would  be,  and  how  many  volumes  it  would  fill,  if 
the  valley  itself  could  tell  it. 

First  of  all,  he  knew,  it  would  whisper  of  the  crea- 
tion of  a  world;  it  would  tell  of  oceans  torn  and 
twisted  and  thrown  aside — of  those  first  strange 
aeons  of  time  when  there  was  no  night,  but  all  was 
day;  when  weird  and  tremendous  monsters  stalkerf 
where  he  now  saw  the  caribou  drinking  at  the  creek, 
and  when  huge  winged  creatures  half  bird  and  half 
beast  swept  the  sky  where  he  now  saw  an  eagle 
soaring. 

And  then  it  would  tell  of  The  Change — of  that 
terrific  hour  when  the  earth  tilted  on  its  axis,  and 
night  came,  and  a  tropical  world  was  turned  into 
a  frigid  one,  and  new  kinds  of  life  were  born  to 
fill  it. 

It  must  have  been  long  after  that,  thought  Lang- 
don,  that  the  first  bear  came  to  replace  the  mam- 
moth, the  mastodon,  and  the  monstrous  beasts 
that  had  been  their  company.  And  that  first  bear 
was  the  forefather  of  the  grizzly  he  and  Bruce  were 
setting  forth  to  kill  the  next  day! 


202  THE  GRIZZLY 

So  engrossed  was  Langdon  in  his  thoughts  that 
*ie  did  not  hear  a  sound  behind  him.  And  then 
something  roused  him. 

It  was  as  if  one  of  the  monsters  he  had  been 
picturing  in  his  imagination  had  let  out  a  great 
breath  close  to  him.  He  turned  slowly,  and  the 
next  moment  his  heart  seemed  to  stop  its  beating; 
his  blood  seemed  to  grow  cold  and  lifeless  in  his 
veins. 

Barring  the  ledge  not  more  than  fifteen  feet  from 
him,  his  great  jaws  agape,  his  head  moving  slowly 
from  side  to  side  as  he  regarded  his  trapped  enemy* 
stood  Thor,  the  King  of  the  Mountains! 

And  in  that  space  of  a  second  or  two  Langdon's 
hands  involuntarily  gripped  at  his  broken  rifle,  and 
he  decided  that  he  was  doomed! 


CHAPTER  SEVENTEEN 

A  BROKEN,  choking  breath — a  stifled  sound 
that  was  scarcely  a  cry — was  all  that  came 
from  Langdon's  lips  as  he  saw  the  monstrous 
grizzly  looking  at  him.  In  the  ten  seconds  that 
followed  he  lived  hours. 

His  first  thought  was  that  he  was  powerless — 
utterly  powerless.  He  could  not  even  run,  for  the 
rock  wall  was  behind  him;  he  could  not  fling  himself 
valleyward,  for  there  was  a  sheer  fall  of  a  hundred 
feet  on  that  side.  He  was  face  to  face  with  death, 
a  death  as  terrible  as  that  which  had  overtaken  the 
dogs. 

And  yet  in  these  last  moments  Langdon  did  not  lose 
himself  in  terror.  He  noted  even  the  redness  in  the 
avenging  grizzly's  eyes.  He  saw  the  naked  scar 
along  his  back  where  one  of  his  bullets  had  plowed; 
he  saw  the  bare  spot  where  another  of  his  bullets 
had  torn  its  way  through  Thor's  fore-shoulder. 
And  he  believed,  as  he  observed  these  things,  that 

203 


204  THE  GRIZZLY 

Thor  had  deliberately  trailed  him,  that  the  bear 
had  followed  him  along  the  ledge  and  had  cornered 
him  here  that  he  might  repay  in  full  measure  what 
had  been  inflicted  upon  him. 

Thor  advanced — just  one  step;  and  then  in  that 
slow,  graceful  movement,  reared  himself  to  full 
height.  Langdon,  even  then,  thought  that  he  was 
magnificent.  On  his  part,  the  man  did  not  move;  he 
looked  steadily  up  at  Thor,  and  he  had  made  up  his 
mind  what  to  do  when  the  great  beast  lunged  for- 
ward. He  would  fling  himself  over  the  edge.  Down 
below  there  was  one  chance  in  a  thousand  for  life. 
There  might  be  a  ledge  or  a  projecting  spur  to  catch 
him. 

And  Thor! 

Suddenly — unexpectedly — he  had  come  upon  man! 
This  was  the  creature  that  had  hunted  him,  this 
was  the  creature  that  had  hurt  him — and  it  was 
so  near  that  he  could  reach  out  with  his  paw  and 
crush  it!  And  how  weak,  and  white,  and  shrinking 
it  looked  now!  Where  was  its  strange  thunder? 
Where  was  its  burning  lightning?  Why  did  it  make 
no  sound? 

Even  a  dog  would  have  done  more  than  this 


THE  GRIZZLY  205 

creature,  for  the  dog  would  have  shown  its  fangs; 
it  would  have  snarled,  it  would  have  fought.  But 
this  thing  that  was  man  did  nothing  And  a  great, 
slow  doubt  swept  through  Thor's  massive  head. 
Was  it  really  this  shrinking,  harmless,  terrified  thing 
that  had  hurt  him?  He  smelled  the  man-smell. 
It  was  thick.  And  yet  this  time  there  came  with 
it  no  hurt. 

And  then,  slowly  again,  Thor  came  down  to  all 
fours.     Steadily  he  looked  at  the  man. 

Had  Langdon  moved  then  he  would  have  died. 
But  Thor  was  not,  like  man,  a  murderer.  For 
another  half -minute  he  waited  for  a  hurt,  for  some 
sign  of  menace.  Neither  came,  and  he  was  puzzled. 
His  nose  swept  the  ground,  and  Langdon  saw  the 
dust  rise  where  the  grizzly's  hot  breath  stirred  it. 
And  after  that,  for  another  long  and  terrible  thirty 
seconds,  the  bear  and  the  man  looked  at  each  other. 

Then  very  slowly — and  doubtfully — Thor  half 
turned.  He  growled.  His  lips  drew  partly  back. 
Yet  he  saw  no  reason  to  fight,  for  that  shrinking, 
white-faced  pigmy  crouching  on  the  rock  made  no 
movement  to  offer  him  battle.  He  saw  that  he 
£ould  not  go  on,  for  the  ledge  was  blocked  by  the 


206  THE  GRIZZLY 

mountain  wall.  Had  there  been  a  trail  the  story 
might  have  been  different  for  Langdon.  As  it  was, 
Thor  disappeared  slowly  in  the  direction  from  which 
he  had  come,  his  great  head  hung  low,  his  long 
claws  click,  click,  clicking  like  ivory  castanets  as  he 
went. 

Not  until  then  did  it  seem  to  Langdon  that  he 
breathed  again,  and  that  his  heart  resumed  its 
beating.  He  gave  a  great  sobbing  gasp.  He  rose 
to  his  feet,  and  his  legs  seemed  weak.  He  waited — 
one  minute,  two,  three;  and  then  he  stole  cautiously 
to  the  twist  in  the  ledge  around  which  Thor  had 
gone. 

The  rocks  were  clear,  and  he  began  to  retrace  his 
own  steps  toward  the  meadowy  break,  watching 
and  listening,  and  still  clutching  the  broken  parts 
of  his  rifle.  When  he  came  to  the  edge  of  the  plain 
he  dropped  down  behind  a  huge  boulder. 

Three  hundred  yards  away  Thor  was  ambling 
slowly  over  the  crest  of  the  dip  toward  the  eastward 
valley.  Not  until  the  bear  reappeared  on  the  farther 
ridge  of  the  hollow,  and  then  vanished  again,  did 
Langdon  follow. 

When  he  reached  the  slope  on  which  he  had  hob- 


THE  GRIZZLY  207 

bled  his  horse  Thor  was  no  longer  in  sight.  The 
horse  was  where  he  had  left  it.  Not  until  he  was 
in  the  saddle  did  Langdon  feel  that  he  was  completely 
safe.  Then  he  laughed,  a  nervous,  broken,  joyous 
sort  of  laugh,  and  as  he  scanned  the  valley  he  filled 
his  pipe  with  fresh  tobacco. 

"You  great  big  god  of  a  bear!"  he  whispered,  and 
every  fibre  in  him  was  trembling  in  a  wonderful 
excitement  as  he  found  voice  for  the  first  time. 
"You — you  monster  with  a  heart  bigger  than  man!" 
And  then  he  added,  under  his  breath,  as  if  not 
conscious  that  he  was  speaking:  "If  I'd  cornered  you 
like  that  I'd  have  killed  you!  And  you!  You  cor- 
nered me,  and  let  me  live!" 

He  rode  toward  camp,  and  as  he  went  he  knew 
that  this  day  had  given  the  final  touch  to  the  big 
change  that  had  been  working  in  him.  He  had 
met  the  King  of  the  Mountains;  he  had  stood  face 
to  face  with  death,  and  in  the  last  moment  the 
four-footed  thing  he  had  hunted  and  maimed  had 
been  merciful.  He  believed  that  Bruce  would  not 
understand;  that  Bruce  could  not  understand;  but 
unto  himself  the  day  and  the  hour  had  brought  its 
meaning  in  a  way  that  he  would  not  forget  so  long 


208  THE  GRIZZLY 

as  he  lived,  and  he  knew  that  hereafter  and  for  all 
time  he  would  not  again  hunt  the  life  of  Thor,  or 
the  lives  of  any  of  his  kind. 

Langdon  reached  the  camp  and  prepared  himself 
some  dinner,  and  as  he  ate  this,  with  Muskwa  for 
company,  he  made  new  plans  for  the  days  and  weeks 
that  were  to  follow.  He  would  send  Bruce  back 
to  overtake  Metoosin  the  next  day,  and  they  would 
no  longer  hunt  the  big  grizzly.  They  would  go  on 
to  the  Skeena  and  possibly  even  up  to  the  edge  of 
the  Yukon,  and  then  swing  eastward  into  the  caribou 
country  some  time  early  in  September,  hitting 
back  toward  civilization  on  the  prairie  side  of  the 
Rockies.  He  would  take  Muskwa  with  them. 
Back  in  the  land  of  men  and  cities  they  would  be 
great  friends.  It  did  not  occur  to  him  just  then 
what  this  would  mean  for  Muskwa. 

It  was  two  o'clock,  and  he  was  still  dreaming  of 
new  and  unknown  trails  into  the  North  when  a 
sound  came  to  rouse  and  disturb  him.  For  a  few 
minutes  he  paid  no  attention  to  it,  for  it  seemed  to 
be  only  a  part  of  the  droning  murmur  of  the  valley. 
But  slowly  and  steadily  it  rose  above  this,  and  at 
last  he  got  up  from  where  he  was  lying  with  his  back 


THE  GRIZZLY  209 

to  a  tree  and  walked  out  from  the  timber,  where  he 
could  hear  more  plainly. 

Muskwa  followed  him,  and  when  Langdon  stopped 
the  tan-faced  cub  also  stopped.  His  little  ears 
shot  out  inquisitively.  He  turned  his  head  to  the 
north.     From  that  direction  the  sound  was  coming. 

In  another  moment  Langdon  had  recognized  it, 
and  yet  even  then  he  told  himself  that  his  ears  must 
be  playing  him  false.  It  could  not  be  the  barking 
of  dogs!  By  this  time  Bruce  and  Metoosin  were 
far  to  the  south  with  the  pack;  at  least  Metoosin 
should  be,  and  Bruce  was  on  his  return  to  the  camp ! 
Quickly  the  sound  grew  more  distinct,  and  at  last 
he  knew  that  he  could  not  be  mistaken.  The  dogs 
were  coming  up  the  valley.  Something  had  turned 
Bruce  and  Metoosin  northward  instead  of  into 
the  south.  And  the  pack  was  giving  tongue — that 
fierce,  heated  baying  which  told  him  they  were 
again  on  the  fresh  spoor  of  game.  A  sudden  thrill 
shot  through  him.  There  could  be  but  one  living 
thing  in  the  length  and  breadth  of  the  valley  that 
Bruce  would  set  the  dogs  after,  and  that  was  the  big 
grizzly! 

For  a  few  moments  longer  Langdon  stood  and 


210  THE  GRIZZLY 

listened.  Then  he  hurried  back  to  camp,  tied 
Muskwa  to  his  tree,  armed  himself  with  another 
rifle,  and  resaddled  his  horse.  Five  minutes  later 
he  was  riding  swiftly  in  the  direction  of  the  range 
where  a  short  time  before  Thor  had  given  him  his 
life. 


CHAPTER  EIGHTEEN 

THOR  heard  the  dogs  when  they  were  a  mile 
away.  There  were  two  reasons  why  he 
was  even  less  in  a  mood  to  run  from  them 
novr  than  a  few  days  before.  Of  the  dogs  alone  he 
had  no  more  fear  than  if  they  had  been  so  many 
badgers,  or  so  many  whistlers  piping  at  him  from 
the  rocks.  He  had  found  them  all  mouth  and  little 
fang,  and  easy  to  kill.  It  was  what  followed  close 
after  them  that  disturbed  him.  But  to-day  he 
had  stood  face  to  face  with  the  thing  that  had  brought 
the  strange  scent  into  his  valleys,  and  it  had  not 
offered  to  hurt  him,  and  he  had  refused  to  kill  it. 
Besides,  he  was  again  seeking  Iskwao,  the  she-bear, 
and  man  is  not  the  only  animal  that  will  risk  his 
life  for  love. 

After  killing  his  last  dog  at  dusk  of  that  fatal 
day  when  they  had  pursued  him  over  the  mountain 
Thor  had  done  just  what  Bruce  thought  that  he 

would   do,   and   instead   of   continuing   southward 

211 


212  THE  GRIZZLY 

had  made  a  wider  detour  toward  the  north,  and 
the  third  night  after  the  fight  and  the  loss  of  Muskwa 
he  found  Iskwao  again.  In  the  twilight  of  that 
same  evening  Pipoonaskoos  had  died,  and  Thor  had 
heard  the  sharp  cracking  of  Bruce's  automatic. 
All  that  night  and  the  next  day  and  the  night  that 
followed  he  spent  with  Iskwao,  and  then  he  left 
her  once  more.  A  third  time  he  was  seeking  he* 
when  he  found  Langdon  in  the  trap  on  the  ledge, 
and  he  had  not  yet  got  wind  of  her  when  he  first 
heard  the  baying  of  the  dogs  on  his  trail. 

He  was  travelling  southward,  which  brought  him 
nearer  the  hunters'  camp.  He  was  keeping  to  the 
high  slopes  where  there  were  little  dips  and  mead- 
ows, broken  by  patches  of  shale,  deep  coulees,  and 
occasionally  wild  upheavals  of  rock.  He  was  keep- 
ing the  wind  straight  ahead  so  that  he  would  not 
fail  to  catch  the  smell  of  Iskwao  when  he  came  near 
her,  and  with  the  baying  of  the  dogs  he  caught  no 
scent  of  the  pursuing  beasts,  or  of  the  two  men  who 
were  riding  behind  them. 

At  another  time  he  would  have  played  his  favourite 
trick  of  detouring  so  that  the  danger  would  be  ahead 
of  him,  with  the  wind  in  his  favour.     Caution  had 


THE  GRIZZLY  213 

now  become  secondary  to  his  desire  to  find  his  mate. 
The  dogs  were  less  than  half  a  mile  away  when  he 
stopped  suddenly,  sniffed  the  air  for  a  moment,  and 
then  went  on  swiftly  until  he  was  halted  by  a  narrow 
ravine. 

Up  that  ravine  Iskwao  was  coming  from  a  dip 
lower  down  the  mountain,  and  she  was  running. 
The  yelping  of  the  pack  was  fierce  and  close  when 
Thor  scrambled  down  in  time  to  meet  her  as  she 
rushed  upward.  Iskwao  paused  for  a  single  mo- 
ment, smelled  noses  with  Thor,  and  then  went  on, 
her  ears  laid  back  flat  and  sullen  and  her  throat 
filled  with  growling  menace. 

Thor  followed  her,  and  he  also  growled.  He 
knew  that  his  mate  was  fleeing  from  the  dogs,  and 
again  that  deadly  and  slowly  increasing  wrath 
swept  through  him  as  he  climbed  after  her  higher 
up  the  mountain. 

In  such  an  hour  as  this  Thor  was  at  his  worst. 
He  was  a  fighter  when  pursued  as  the  dogs  had 
pursued  him  a  week  before — but  he  was  a  demon, 
terrible  and  without  mercy,  when  danger  threatened 
his  mate. 

He  fell  farther  and  farther  behind  Iskwao,  and 


214  THE  GRIZZLY 

twice  he  turned,  his  fangs  gleaming  under  drawn 
lips,  and  his  defiance  rolling  back  upon  his  enemies 
in  low  thunder. 

When  he  came  up  out  of  the  coulee  he  was  in 
the  shadow  of  the  peak,  and  Iskwao  had  already 
disappeared  in  her  skyward  scramble.  Where  she 
had  gone  was  a  wild  chaos  of  rock-slide  and  the 
piled-up  debris  of  fallen  and  shattered  masses  of 
sandstone  crag.  The  sky-line  was  not  more  than 
three  hundred  yards  above  him.  He  looked  up. 
Iskwao  was  among  the  rocks,  and  here  was  the 
place  to  fight.  The  dogs  were  close  upon  him 
now.  They  were  coming  up  the  last  stretch  of  the 
coulee,  baying  loudly.  Thor  turned  about,  and 
waited  for  them. 

Half  a  mile  to  the  south,  looking  through  his 
glasses,  Langdon  saw  Thor,  and  at  almost  the 
same  instant  the  dogs  appeared  over  the  edge  of 
the  coulee.  He  had  ridden  halfway  up  the  moun- 
tain; from  that  point  he  had  climbed  higher,  and 
was  following  a  well-beaten  sheep  trail  at  about  the 
same  altitude  as  Thor.  From  where  he  stood  the 
valley  lay  under  his  glasses  for  miles.  He  did  not 
have  far  to  look  to  discover  Bruce  and  the  Indian. 


THE  GRIZZLY  215 

They  were  dismounting  at  the  foot  of  the  coulee, 
and  as  he  gazed  they  ran  quickly  into  it  and  dis- 
appeared. 

Again  Langdon  swung  back  to  Thor.  The  dogs 
were  holding  him  now,  and  he  knew  there  was  no 
chance  of  the  grizzly  killing  them  in  that  open  space. 
Then  he  saw  movement  among  the  rocks  higher 
up,  and  a  low  cry  of  understanding  broke  from 
his  lips  as  he  made  out  Iskwao  climbing  steadily 
toward  the  ragged  peak.  He  knew  that  this  second 
bear  was  a  female.  The  big  grizzly — her  mate — 
had  stopped  to  fight.  And  there  was  no  hope  for 
him  if  the  dogs  succeeded  in  holding  him  for  a 
matter  of  ten  or  fifteen  minutes.  Bruce  and  Me- 
toosin  would  appear  in  that  time  over  the  rim  of 
the  coulee  at  a  range  of  less  than  a  hundred  yards! 

Langdon  thrust  his  binoculars  in  their  case  and 
started  at  a  run  along  the  sheep  trail.  For  two 
hundred  yards  his  progress  was  easy,  and  then  the 
patch  broke  into  a  thousand  individual  tracks  on  a 
siope  of  soft  and  slippery  shale,  and  it  took  him  five 
minutes  to  make  the  next  fifty  yards. 

The  trail  hardened  again.  He  ran  on  pantingly, 
and  for  another  five  minutes  the  shoulder  of  a  ridge 


216  THE  GRIZZLY 

hid  Thor  and  the  dogs  from  him.  When  he  came 
over  that  ridge  and  ran  fifty  yards,  down  the  farther 
side  of  it,  he  stopped  short.  Further  progress  was 
barred  by  a  steep  ravine.  He  was  five  hundred 
yards  from  where  Thor  stood  with  his  back  to  the 
rocks  and  his  huge  head  to  the  pack. 

Even  as  he  looked,  struggling  to  get  breath  enough 
to  shout,  Langdon  expected  to  see  Bruce  and 
Metoosin  appear  out  of  the  coulee.  It  flashed 
upon  him  then  that  even  if  he  could  make  them 
hear  it  would  be  impossible  for  them  to  under- 
stand him.  Bruce  would  not  guess  that  he  wanted 
to  spare  the  beast  they  had  been  hunting  for  almost 
two  weeks. 

Thor  had  rushed  the  dogs  a  full  twenty  yards 
toward  the  coulee  when  Langdon  dropped  quickly 
behind  a  rock.  There  was  only  one  way  of  saving 
him  now,  if  he  was  not  too  late.  The  pack  had 
retreated  a  few  yards  down  the  slope,  and  he  aimed 
at  the  pack.  One  thought  only  filled  his  brain — 
he  must  sacrifice  his  dogs  or  let  Thor  die.  And 
that  day  Thor  had  given  him  his  life! 

There  was  no  hesitation  as  he  pressed  the  trigger. 
It  was  a  long  shot,  and  the  first  bullet  threw  up  a 


THE  GRIZZLY  217 

<Joud  of  dust  fifty  feet  short  of  the  Airedales.  He 
fired  again,  and  missed.  The  third  time  his  rifle 
cracked  there  answered  it  a  sharp  yelp  of  pain  which 
Langdon  himself  did  not  hear.  One  of  the  dogs 
rolled  over  and  over  down  the  slope. 

The  reports  of  the  shots  alone  had  not  stirred 
Thor,  but  now  when  he  saw  one  of  his  enemies 
crumple  up  and  go  rolling  down  the  mountain  he 
turned  slowly  toward  the  safety  of  the  rocks.  A 
fourth  and  then  a  fifth  shot  followed,  and  at  the 
fifth  the  yelping  dogs  dropped  back  toward  the 
coulee,  one  of  them  limping  with  a  shattered  fore- 
foot. 

Langdon  sprang  upon  the  boulder  over  which 
he  had  rested  his  gun,  and  his  eyes  caught  the 
sky-line.  Iskwao  had  just  reached  the  top.  She 
paused  for  a  moment  and  looked  down.  Then  she 
disappeared. 

Thor  was  now  hidden  among  the  boulders  and 
broken  masses  of  sandstone,  following  her  trail. 
Within  two  minutes  after  the  grizzly  disappeared 
Bruce  and  Metoosin  scrambled  up  over  the  edge 
of  the  coulee.  From  where  they  stood  even  the 
sky-line  was  within  fairly  good  shooting  distance, 


218  THE  GRIZZLY 

and  Langdon  suddenly  began  shouting  excitedly^ 
waving  his  arms,  and  pointing  downward, 

Bruce  and  Metoosin  were  caught  by  his  ruse» 
in  spite  of  the  fact  that  the  dogs  were  again  giving 
fierce  tongue  close  to  the  rocks  among  which  Thor 
had  gone.  They  believed  that  from  where  he 
stood  Langdon  could  see  the  progress  of  the  bear, 
and  that  it  was  running  toward  the  valley.  Not 
until  they  were  another  hundred  yards  down  the 
slope  did  they  stop  and  look  back  at  Langdon  to 
get  further  directions.  From  his  rock  Langdon 
was  pointing  to  the  sky-line. 

Thor  was  just  going  over.  He  paused  for  a 
moment,  as  Iskwao  had  stopped,  and  took  one  last 
look  at  man. 

And  Langdon,  as  he  saw  the  last  of  him,  waved 
his  hat  and  shouted,  "  Good  luck  to  you,  old  man — 
good  luck!" 


CHAPTER  NINETEEN 

THAT  night  Langdon  and  Bruce  made  their 
new  plans,  while  Metoosin  sat  aloof,  smoking 
in  stolid  silence,  and  gazing  now  and  then 
at  Langdon  as  if  he  could  not  yet  bring  himself  to 
the  point  of  believing  what  had  happened  that 
afternoon.  Thereafter  through  many  moons  Me- 
toosin would  never  forget  to  relate  to  his  children 
and  his  grandchildren  and  his  friends  of  the  tepee 
tribes  how  he  had  once  hunted  with  a  white  man 
who  had  shot  his  own  dogs  to  save  the  life  of  a 
grizzly  bear.  Langdon  was  no  longer  the  same  old 
Langdon  to  him,  and  after  this  hunt  Metoosin 
knew  that  he  would  never  hunt  with  him  again. 
For  Langdon  was  JcesJcwao  now.  Something  had 
gone  wrong  in  his  head.  The  Great  Spirit  had 
taken  away  his  heart  and  had  given  it  to  a  grizzly 
bear,  and  over  his  pipe  Metoosin  watched  him 
cautiously.  This  suspicion  was  confirmed  when 
he  saw  Bruce  and  Langdon  making  a  cage  out  of  a 

219 


220  THE  GRIZZLY 

cowhide  pannier  and  realized  that  the  cub  was  to 
accompany  them  on  their  long  journey.  There 
was  no  doubt  in  his  mind  now.  Langdon  was 
"queer,"  and  to  an  Indian  that  sort  of  queerness 
boded  no  good  to  man. 

The  next  morning  at  sunrise  the  outfit  was  ready 
for  its  long  trail  into  the  northland.  Bruce  and 
Langdon  led  the  way  up  the  slope  and  over  the  divide 
into  the  valley  where  they  had  first  encountered 
Thor,  the  train  filing  picturesquely  behind  them- 
with  Metoosin  bringing  up  the  rear.  In  his  cow- 
hide pannier  rode  Muskwa. 

Langdon  was  satisfied  and  happy. 

"It  was  the  best  hunt  of  my  life,"  he  said  to 
Bruce.     "I'll  never  be  sorry  we  let  him  five." 

"You're  the  doctor,"  said  Bruce  rather  irrever- 
ently. "If  I  had  my  way  about  it  his  hide  would 
be  back  there  on  Dishpan.  Almost  any  tourist 
down  on  the  line  of  rail  would  jump  for  it  at  a  hun- 
dred dollars." 

"He's  worth  several  thousand  to  me  alive,"  re- 
plied Langdon,  with  which  enigmatic  retort  he 
dropped  behind  to  see  how  Muskwa  was  riding. 

The  cub  was  rolling  and  pitching  about  in  his 


THE  GRIZZLY  221 

pannier  like  a  raw  amateur  in  a  ,  howdah  on  an 
elephant's  back,  and  after  contemplating  him  for 
a  few  moments  Langdon  caught  up  with  Bruce 
again. 

Half  a  dozen  times  during  the  next  two  or  three 
hours  he  visited  Muskwa,  and  each  time  that  he 
returned  to  Bruce  he  was  quieter,  as  if  debating 
something  with  himself. 

It  was  nine  o'clock  when  they  came  to  what  was 
undoubtedly  the  end  of  Thor's  valley.  A  mountain 
rose  up  squarely  in  the  face  of  it,  and  the  stream 
they  were  following  swung  sharply  to  the  westward 
into  a  narrow  canyon.  On  the  east  rose  a  green 
and  undulating  slope  up  which  the  horses  could 
easily  travel,  and  which  would  take  the  outfit  into 
a  new  valley  in  the  direction  of  the  Driftwood.  This 
course  Bruce  decided  to  pursue. 

Halfway  up  the  slope  they  stopped  to  give  the 
horses  a  breathing  spell.  In  his  cowhide  prison 
Muskwa  whimpered  pleadingly.  Langdon  heard, 
but  he  seemed  to  pay  no  attention.  He  was  looking 
steadily  back  into  the  valley.  It  was  glorious  in  the 
morning  sun.  He  could  see  the  peaks  under  which 
lay  the  cool,  dark  lake  in  which  Thor  had  fished; 


222  THE  GRIZZLY 

for  miles  the  slopes  were  like  green  velvet  and 
there  came  to  him  as  he  looked  the  last  droning 
music  of  Thor's  world.  It  struck  him  in  a  curious 
way  as  a  sort  of  anthem,  a  hymnal  rejoicing  that 
he  was  going,  and  that  he  was  leaving  things  as  they 
were  before  he  came.  And  yet,  was  he  leaving 
things  as  they  had  been?  Did  his  ears  not  catch 
in  that  music  of  the  mountains  something  of  sad- 
ness, of  grief,  of  plaintive  prayer? 

And  again,  close  to  him,  Muskwa  whimpered 
softly. 

Then  Langdon  turned  to  Bruce. 

"It's  settled,"  he  said,  and  his  words  had  a  de- 
cisive ring  in  them.  "I've  been  trying  to  make  up 
my  mind  all  the  morning,  and  it's  made  up  now. 
You  and  Metoosin  go  on  when  the  horses  get  their 
wind.  I'm  going  to  ride  down  there  a  mile  or  so 
and  free  the  cub  where  he'll  find  his  way  back 
home!" 

He  did  not  wait  for  arguments  or  remarks,  and 
Bruce  made  none.  He  took  Muskwa  in  his  arms  and 
rode  back  into  the  south. 

A  mile  up  the  valley  Langdon  came  to  a  wide, 
open  meadow  dotted  with  clumps  of  spruce  and 


THE  GRIZZLY  223 

willows  and  sweet  with  the  perfume  of  flowers. 
Here  he  dismounted,  and  for  ten  minutes  sat  on 
the  ground  with  Muskwa.  From  his  pocket  he 
drew  forth  a  small  paper  bag  and  fed  the  cub  its 
last  sugar.  A  thick  lump  grew  in  his  throat  as 
Muskwa's  soft  little  nose  muzzled  the  palm  of  his 
hand,  and  when  at  last  he  jumped  up  and  sprang 
into  his  saddle  there  was  a  mist  in  his  eyes.  He 
tried  to  laugh.  Perhaps  he  was  weak.  But  he 
loved  Muskwa,  and  he  knew  that  he  was  leaving  more 
than  a  human  friend  in  this  mountain  valley. 

"Good-bye,  old  fellow,"  he  said,  and  his  voice 
was  choking.  "Good-bye,  little  Spitfire!  Mebby 
some  day  I'll  come  back  and  see  you,  and  you'll 
be  a  big,  fierce  bear — but  I  won't  shoot — never — 
never " 

He  rode  fast  into  the  north.  Three  hundred 
yards  away  he  turned  his  head  and  looked  back. 
Muskwa  was  following,  but  losing  ground.  Langdon 
waved  his  hand. 

"Good-bye!"  he  called  through  the  lump  in  his 
throat.     "Good-bye!" 

Half  an  hour  later  he  looked  down  from  the  top 
of  the  slope  through  his  glasses.     He  saw  Muskwa, 


224  THE  GRIZZLY 

a  black  dot.    The  cub  had  stopped,  and  was  wait- 
ing confidently  for  him  to  return. 

And  trying  to  laugh  again,  but  failing  dismally, 
Langdon  rode  over  the  divide  and  out  of  Muskwa's 
life. 


CHAPTER  TWENTY 

FOR  a  good  half-mile  Muskwa  followed  over 
the  trail  of  Langdon.  He  ran  at  first;  then 
he  walked;  finally  he  stopped  entirely  and 
cat  down  like  a  dog,  facing  the  distant  slope.  Had 
Langdon  been  afoot  he  would  not  have  halted  until 
he  was  tired.  But  the  cub  had  not  liked  his  pannier 
prison.  He  had  been  tremendously  jostled  and 
bounced  about,  and  twice  the  horse  that  carried 
him  had  shaken  himself,  and  those  shakings  had 
been  like  earthquakes  to  Muskwa.  He  knew  that 
the  cage  as  well  as  Langdon  was  ahead  of  him.  He 
sat  for  a  time  and  whimpered  wistfully,  but  he  went 
no  farther.  He  was  sure  that  the  friend  he  had 
grown  to  love  would  return  after  a  little.  He 
always  came  back.  He  had  never  failed  him. 
So  he  began  to  hunt  about  for  a  spring  beauty  or  a 
dog-tooth  violet,  and  for  some  time  he  was  careful 
not  to  stray  very  far  away  from  where  the  outfit 
had  passed. 


226  THE  GRIZZLY 

All  that  day  the  cub  remained  in  the  flower-strewn 
meadows  under  the  slope;  it  was  very  pleasant  in 
the  sunshine,  and  he  found  more  than  one  patch  of 
the  bulbous  roots  he  liked.  He  dug,  and  he  filled 
himself,  and  he  took  a  nap  in  the  afternoon;  but 
when  the  sun  began  to  go  down  and  the  heavy 
shadows  of  the  mountain  darkened  the  valley  he 
began  to  grow  afraid. 

He  was  still  a  very  small  baby  of  a  cub,  and  only 
that  one  dreadful  night  after  his  mother  had  died 
had  he  spent  entirely  alone.  Thor  had  replaced 
mother,  and  Langdon  had  taken  the  place  of  Thor, 
so  that  until  now  he  had  never  felt  the  loneliness  and 
emptiness  of  darkness.  He  crawled  under  a  clump 
of  thorn  close  to  the  trail,  and  continued  to  wait, 
and  listen,  and  sniff  expectantly.  The  stars  came 
out  clear  and  brilliant,  but  to-night  their  lure  was 
not  strong  enough  to  call  him  forth.  Not  until 
dawn  did  he  steal  out  cautiously  from  his  shelter 
of  thorn. 

The  sun  gave  him  courage  and  confidence  again 
and  he  began  wandering  back  through  the  valley, 
the  scent  of  the  horse-trail  growing  fainter  and 
fainter  until  at  last  it  disappeared  entirely.     That 


THE  GRIZZLY  2£T 

day  Muskwa  ate  some  grass  and  a  few  dog-tooth 
violet  roots,  and  when  the  second  night  came  he 
was  abreast  of  the  slope  over  which  the  outfit  had 
come  from  the  valley  in  which  were  Thor  and 
Iskwao.  He  was  tired  and  hungry,  and  he  was 
utterly  lost. 

That  night  he  slept  in  the  end  of  a  hollow  log. 
The  next  day  he  went  on,  and  for  many  days  and 
many  nights  after  that  he  was  alone  in  the  big 
valley.  He  passed  close  to  the  pool  where  Thor 
and  he  had  met  the  old  bear,  and  he  nosed  hungrily 
among  the  fishbones;  he  skirted  the  edge  of  the  dark, 
deep  lake;  he  saw  the  shadowy  things  fluttering  in 
the  gloom  of  the  forest  again;  he  passed  over  the 
beaver  dam,  and  he  slept  for  two  nights  close  to  the 
log-jam  from  which  he  had  watched  Thor  throw 
out  their  first  fish.  He  was  almost  forgetting 
Langdon  now,  and  was  thinking  more  and  more 
about  Thor  and  his  mother.  He  wanted  them.  He 
wanted  them  more  than  he  had  ever  wanted  the 
companionship  of  man,  for  Muskwa  was  fast  be- 
coming a  creature  of  the  wild  again. 

It  was  the  beginning  of  August  before  the  cub 
came  to  the  break  in  the  valley  and  climbed  up  over 


228  THE  GRIZZLY 

the  slope  where  Thor  had  first  heard  the  thunder 
and  had  first  felt  the  sting  of  the  white  men's  guns. 
In  these  two  weeks  Muskwa  had  grown  rapidly, 
in  spite  of  the  fact  that  he  often  went  to  bed  on  an 
empty  stomach;  and  he  was  no  longer  afraid  of  the 
dark.  Through  the  deep,  sunless  canyon  above  the 
clay  wallow  he  went,  and  as  there  was  only  one  way 
out  he  came  at  last  to  the  summit  of  the  break  over 
which  Thor  had  gone,  and  over  which  Langdon  and 
Bruce  had  followed  in  close  pursuit.  And  the  other 
valley — his  home — lay  under  Muskwa. 

Of  course  he  did  not  recognize  it.  He  saw  and 
smelled  in  it  nothing  that  was  familiar.  But  it 
was  such  a  beautiful  valley,  and  so  abundantly 
filled  with  plenty  and  sunshine,  that  he  did  not 
hurry  through  it.  He  found  whole  gardens  of 
spring  beauties  and  dog-tooth  violets.  And  on  the 
third  day  he  made  his  first  real  kill.  He  almost 
stumbled  over  a  baby  whistler  no  larger  than  a  red 
squirrel,  and  before  the  little  creature  could  escape 
he  was  upon  it.     It  made  him  a  splendid  feast. 

It  was  fully  a  week  before  he  passed  along  the 
creek-bottom  close  under  the  slope  where  his  mother 
had  died.     If  he  had  been  travelling  along  the  crest 


THE  GRIZZLY  229 

of  the  slope  he  would  have  found  her  bones,  picked 
clean  by  the  wild  things.  It  was  another  week  before 
he  came  to  the  little  meadow  where  Thor  had  killed 
the  bull  caribou  and  the  big  black  bear. 

And  now  Muskwa  knew  that  he  was  home! 

For  two  days  he  did  not  travel  two  hundred 
yards  from  the  scene  of  feast  and  battle,  and  night 
and  day  he  was  on  the  watch  for  Thor.  Then  he 
had  to  seek  farther  for  food,  but  each  afternoon  when 
the  mountains  began  to  throw  out  long  shadows  he 
would  return  to  the  clump  of  trees  in  which  they 
had  made  the  cache  that  the  black  bear  robber  had 
despoiled. 

One  day  he  went  farther  than  usual  in  his  quest 
for  roots.  He  was  a  good  half-mile  from  the  place 
he  had  made  home,  and  he  was  sniffing  about  the 
end  of  a  rock  when  a  great  shadow  fell  suddenly 
upon  him.  He  looked  up,  and  for  a  full  half -minute 
he  stood  transfixed,  his  heart  pounding  and  jump- 
ing as  it  had  never  pounded  and  jumped  before 
in  his  life.  Within  five  feet  of  him  stood  Thor! 
The  big  grizzly  was  as  motionless  as  he,  looking  at 
him  steadily.  And  then  Muskwa  gave  a  puppy-like 
whine  of  joy  and  ran  forward.    Thor  lowered  hi? 


230  THE  GRIZZLY 

huge  head,  and  for  another  half-minute  they  stood 
without  moving,  with  Thor's  nose  buried  in  the 
hair  on  Muskwa's  back.  After  that  Thor  went 
up  the  slope  as  if  the  cub  had  never  been  lost  at  all, 
and  Muskwa  followed  him  happily. 

Many  days  of  wonderful  travel  and  of  glorious 
feasting  came  after  this,  and  Thor  led  Muskwa  into 
a  thousand  new  places  in  the  two  valleys  and  the 
mountains  between.  There  were  great  fishing  days, 
and  there  was  another  caribou  killed  over  the  range, 
and  Muskwa  grew  fatter  and  fatter  and  heavier 
and  heavier  until  by  the  middle  of  September  he 
was  as  large  as  a  good-sized  dog. 

Then  came  the  berries,  and  Thor  knew  where 
they  all  grew  low  down  in  the  valleys — first  the 
wild  red  raspberries,  then  the  soap  berries,  and  after 
those  the  delicious  black  currants  which  grew  in 
the  cool  depths  of  the  forests  and  were  almost  as 
large  as  cherries  and  nearly  as  sweet  as  the  sugar 
which  Langdon  had  fed  Muskwa.  Muskwa  liked 
the  black  currants  best  of  all.  They  grew  in  thick, 
rich  clusters;  there  were  no  leaves  on  the  bushes  that 
were  loaded  with  them,  and  he  could  pick  and  eat 
quart  in  five  minutes. 


THE  GRIZZLY  231 

But  at  last  the  time  came  when  there  were  no 
berries.  This  was  in  October.  The  nights  were 
very  cold,  and  for  whole  days  at  a  time  the  sun  would 
not  shine,  and  the  skies  were  dark  and  heavy  with 
douds.  On  the  peaks  the  snow  was  growing  deeper 
and  deeper,  and  it  never  thawed  now  up  near  the 
sky-line.  Snow  fell  in  the  valley,  too — at  first  just 
enough  to  make  a  white  carpet  that  chilled  Muskwa's 
feet,  but  it  quickly  disappeared.  Raw  winds  began 
to  come  out  of  the  north,  and  in  place  of  the  dron- 
ing music  of  the  valley  in  summertime  there  were 
now  shrill  wailings  and  screechings  at  night,  and  the 
trees  made  mournful  sounds. 

To  Muskwa  the  whole  world  seemed  changing. 
He  wondered  in  these  chill  and  dark  days  why  Thor 
kept  to  the  windswept  slopes  when  he  might  have 
found  shelter  in  the  bottoms.  And  Thor,  if  he 
explained  to  him  at  all,  told  him  that  winter  was 
very  near,  and  that  these  slopes  were  their  last 
feeding  grounds.  In  the  valleys  the  berries  were 
gone;  grass  and  roots  alone  were  no  longer  nourish- 
ing enough  for  their  bodies;  they  could  no  longer 
waste  time  in  seeking  ants  and  grubs;  the  fish  wer« 
in  deep  water.    It  was  the  season  when  the  caribou 


232  THE  GRIZZLY 

were  keen-scented  as  foxes  and  swift  as  the  wind. 
Only  along  the  slopes  lay  the  dinners  they  were 
sure  of — famine-day  dinners  of  whistlers  and  gophers. 
Thor  dug  for  them  now,  and  in  this  digging  Muskwa 
helped  as  much  as  he  could.  More  than  once  they 
turned  out  wagonloads  of  earth  to  get  at  the  cozy  win- 
ter sleeping  quarters  of  a  whistler  family,  and  some- 
times they  dug  for  hours  to  capture  three  or  four  little 
gophers  no  larger  than  red  squirrels,  but  lusciously  fat. 

Thus  they  lived  through  the  last  days  of  October 
into  November.  And  now  the  snow  and  the  cold 
winds  and  the  fierce  blizzards  from  the  north  came 
in  earnest,  and  the  ponds  and  lakes  began  to  freeze 
over.  Still  Thor  hung  to  the  slopes,  and  Muskwa 
shivered  with  the  cold  at  night  and  wondered  if  the 
sun  was  never  going  to  shine  again. 

One  day  about  the  middle  of  November  Thor 
stopped  in  the  very  act  of  digging  out  a  family  of 
whistlers,  went  straight  down  into  the  valley,  and 
struck  southward  in  a  most  businesslike  way.  They 
were  ten  miles  from  the  clay-wallow  canyon  when 
they  started,  but  so  lively  was  the  pace  set  by  the 
big  grizzly  that  they  reached  it  before  dark  that  same 
afternoon. 


THE  GRIZZLY  233 

For  two  days  after  this  Thor  seemed  to  have  no 
object  in  life  at  all.  There  was  nothing  in  the 
canyon  to  eat,  and  he  wandered  about  among  the 
rocks,  smelling  and  listening  and  deporting  himself 
generally  in  a  fashion  that  was  altogether  mystifying 
to  Muskwa.  In  the  afternoon  of  the  second  day 
Thor  stopped  in  a  clump  of  jackpines  under  which 
the  ground  was  strewn  with  fallen  needles.  He 
began  to  eat  these  needles.  They  did  not  look  good 
to  Muskwa,  but  something  told  the  cub  that  he 
should  do  as  Thor  was  doing;  so  he  licked  them  up 
and  swallowed  them,  not  knowing  that  it  was  na- 
ture's last  preparation  for  his  long  sleep. 

It  was  four  o'clock  when  they  came  to  the  mouth 
of  the  deep  cavern  in  which  Thor  was  born,  and  here 
again  Thor  paused,  sniffing  up  and  down  the  wind, 
and  waiting  for  nothing  in  particular. 

It  was  growing  dark.  A  wailing  storm  hung  over 
the  canyon.  Biting  winds  swept  down  from  the 
peaks,  and  the  sky  was  black  and  full  of  snow. 

For  a  minute  the  grizzly  stood  with  his  head  and 
shoulders  in  the  cavern  door.  Then  he  entered. 
Muskwa  followed.  Deep  back  they  went  through 
a  pitch-Wack  gloom,  and  it  grew  warmer  and  warmer, 


234  THE  GRIZZLY 

and  the  wailing  of  the  wind  died  away  until  it  was 
only  a  murmur. 

It  took  Thor  at  least  half  an  hour  to  arrange  him- 
self just  as  he  wanted  to  sleep.  Then  Muskwa 
curled  up  beside  him.  The  cub  was  very  warm  and 
very  comfortable. 

That  night  the  storm  raged,  and  the  snow  fell 
deep.  It  came  up  the  canyon  in  clouds,  and  it 
drifted  down  through  the  canyon  roof  in  still  thicker 
clouds,  and  all  the  world  was  buried  deep.  When 
morning  came  there  was  no  cavern  door,  there  were 
no  rocks,  and  no  black  and  purple  of  tree  and 
shrub.  All  was  white  and  still,  and  there  was  no 
longer  the  droning  music  in  the  valley. 

Deep  back  in  the  cavern  Muskwa  moved  rest- 
lessly. Thor  heaved  a  deep  sigh.  After  that  long 
and  soundly  they  slept.  And  it  may  be  that  they 
dreamed. 


THE  FIRST  PEOPLE 

YOU  are  going  up  from  among  a  people  who 
have  many  gods  to  a  people  who  have  but 
one,"  said  Ransom  quietly,  looking  across  at 
the  other.  "  It  would  be  better  for  you  if  you  turned 
back.  I've  spent  four  years  in  the  Government  ser- 
vice, mostly  north  of  Fifty-three,  and  I  know  what 
I'm  talking  about.  I've  read  all  of  your  books  care- 
fully, and  I  tell  you  now — go  back.  If  you  strike  up 
into  the  Bay  country,  as  you  say  you're  going  to, 
every  dream  of  socialism  you  ever  had  will  be  shat- 
tered, and  you  will  laugh  at  your  own  books.  Go 
back!" 

Roscoe's  fine  young  face  lighted  up  with  a  laugh 
at  his  old  college  chum's  seriousness. 

"You're  mistaken,  Ranny,"  he  said.  "I'm  not  a 
socialist  but  a  sociologist.  There's  a  distinction,  isn't 
there?  I  don't  believe  that  my  series  of  books  will 
be  at  all  complete  without  a  study  of  socialism  as  it 
exists  in  its  crudest  form,  and  as  it  must  exist  up 

235 


236  THE  GRIZZLY 

here  in  the  North.  My  material  for  this  last  book 
will  show  what  tremendous  progress  the  civilization 
of  two  centuries  on  this  continent  has  made  over  the 
lowest  and  wildest  forms  of  human  brotherhood* 
That's  my  idea,  Ranny.  I'm  an  optimist.  I  be- 
lieve that  every  invention  we  make,  that  every  step 
we  take  in  the  advancement  of  science,  of  mental 
and  physical  uplift,  brings  us  just  so  much  nearer  to 
the  Nirvana  of  universal  love.  This  trip  of  mine 
among  your  wild  people  of  the  North  will  give  me  a 
good  picture  of  what  civilization  has  gained." 

"What  it  has  lost,  you  will  say  a  little  later,"  re- 
plied Ransom.  "See  here,  Roscoe — has  it  ever 
occurred  to  you  that  brotherly  love,  as  you  oall 
it — the  real  thing — ended  when  civilization  began? 
Has  it  ever  occurred  to  you  that  somewhere  away 
back  in  the  darkest  ages  your  socialistic  Nirvana 
may  have  existed,  and  that  you  sociologists  might 
still  find  traces  of  it,  if  you  would?  Has  the  idea 
ever  come  to  you  that  there  has  been  a  time  when  the 
world  has  been  better  than  it  is  to-day,  and  better 
than  it  ever  will  be  again?  Will  you,  as  a  student 
of  life,  concede  that  the  savage  can  teach  you  a 
lesson?    Will  any  of  your  kind?    No,  for  you  are 


THE  GRIZZLY  237 

self-appointed  civilizers,  working  according  to  a 
certain  code." 

Ransom's  weather-tanned  face  had  taken  on  a 
deeper  flush,  and  there  was  a  questioning  look  in 
Roscoe's  eyes,  as  though  he  were  striving  to  look 
through  a  veil  of  clouds  to  a  picture  just  beyond  his 
vision. 

"If  most  of  us  believed  as  you  believe,"  he  said 
at  last,  "civilization  would  end.  We  would  pro- 
gress no  farther." 

"And  this  civilization,"  said  Ransom,  "can  there 
not  be  too  much  of  it?  Was  it  any  worse  for  God'? 
first  men  to  set  forth  and  slay  twenty  thousand  othei 
men,  than  it  is  for  civilization's  sweat-shops  to  slay 
twenty  thousand  men,  women,  and  children  each 
year  in  the  making  of  your  cigars  and  the  things  you 
wear?  Civilization  means  the  uplifting  of  man, 
doesn't  it,  and  when  it  ceases  to  uplift  when  it  kills, 
robs,  and  disrupts  in  the  name  of  progress;  when  the 
dollar-fight  for  commercial  and  industrial  supremacy 
kills  more  people  in  a  day  than  God's  first  people 
killed  in  a  year;  when  not  only  people,  but  nations, 
are  sparring  for  throat-grips,  can  we  call  it  civiliza- 
tion any  longer?     This  talk  may  all  be  bally  rot. 


238  THE  GRIZZLY 

Roscoe.  Ninety-nine  out  of  every  hundred  people 
will  think  that  it  is.  There  are  very  few  these  days 
who  stoop  to  the  thought  that  the  human  soul  is 
the  greatest  of  all  creations,  and  that  it  is  the  develop- 
ment  of  the  soul,  and  not  of  engines  and  flying  ma- 
chines and  warships,  that  measures  progress  as  God 
meant  progress  to  be.  I  am  saying  this  because  I 
want  you  to  be  honest  when  you  go  up  among  the 
savages,  as  you  call  them.  You  may  find  up  there 
the  last  chapter  in  life,  as  it  was  largely  intended 
that  life  should  be  in  the  beginning  of  things.  And 
I  want  you  to  understand  it,  because  in  your  books 
you  possess  a  power  which  should  be  well  directed. 
When  I  received  your  last  letter  I  hunted  up  the 
best  man  I  knew  as  guide  and  companion  for  you — 
old  Rameses,  down  at  the  Mission.  He  is  called 
Rameses  because  he  looks  like  the  old  boy  himself. 
You  said  you  wanted  to  learn  Cree,  and  he'll  teach 
it  to  you.  He  will  teach  you  a  lot  of  other  things* 
and  when  you  look  at  him,  especially  at  night  beside 
the  campfire,  you  will  find  something  in  his  face 
which  will  recall  what  I  have  said,  and  make  you 
think  of  the  first  people." 

Roscoe,  at   thirty-two,  had   not   lost   his   boy*? 


THE  GRIZZLY  239 

enthusiasm  in  life,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  he  had 
studied  too  deeply,  and  had  seen  too  much,  and  had 
begun  fighting  for  existence  while  still  in  bare  feet. 
From  the  beginning  it  seemed  as  though  some  grim 
monster  of  fate  had  hovered  about  him,  making  his 
path  as  rough  as  it  could,  and  striking  him  down 
whenever  the  opportunity  came.  His  own  tre- 
mendous energy  and  ambition  had  carried  him  to  the 
top. 

He  worked  himself  through  college,  and  became  a 
success  in  his  way.  But  at  no  time  could  he  remem- 
ber real  happiness.  It  had  almost  come  to  him,  he 
thought,  a  year  before — in  the  form  of  a  girl;  but  this 
promise  had  passed  like  the  others  because,  of  a 
sudden,  he  found  that  she  had  shattered  the  most 
precious  of  all  his  ideals.  So  he  picked  himself  up, 
and,  encouraged  by  his  virile  optimism,  began  look- 
ing forward  again.  Bad  luck  had  so  worked  its 
hand  in^the  moulding  of  him  that  he  had  come  to  live 
chiefly  in  anticipation,  and  though  this  bad  luck  had 
played  battledore  and  shuttlecock  with  him,  the 
things  which  he  anticipated  were  pleasant  and  beau- 
tiful. He  believed  that  the  human  race  was  growing 
better,  and  that  each  year  was  bringing  his  ideals 


S40  THE  GRIZZLY 

just  so  muci  nearer  to  realization.  More  than  once 
he  had  told  himself  that  he  was  living  two  or  three 
centuries  too  soon.  Ransom,  his  old  college  chum, 
had  been  the  first  to  suggest  that  he  was  living  some 
thousands  of  years  too  late. 

He  thought  of  this  a  great  deal  during  the  first 
pleasant  weeks  of  the  autumn,  which  he  and  old 
Rameses  spent  up  in  the  Lac  la  Ronge  and  Reindeer 
Lake  country.  During  this  time  he  devoted  him- 
self almost  entirely  to  the  study  of  Cree  under 
Rameses'  tutelage,  and  the  more  he  learned  of  it  the 
more  he  saw  the  truth  of  what  Ransom  had  told  him 
once  upon  a  time,  that  the  Cree  language  was  the 
most  beautiful  in  the  world.  At  the  upper  end  of  the 
Reindeer  they  spent  a  week  at  a  Cree  village,  and 
one  day  Roscoe  stood  unobserved  and  listened  to 
the  conversation  of  three  young  Cree  women,  who 
were  weaving  reed  baskets.  They  talked  so  quickly 
that  he  could  understand  but  little  of  what  they  said, 
but  their  low,  soft  voices  were  like  music.  He  had 
learned  French  in  Paris,  and  had  heard  Italian  in 
Rome,  but  never  in  his  life  had  he  heard  words  or 
voices  so  beautiful  as  those  which  fell  from  the  red, 
full  lips  of  the  Cree  girls.     He  thought  more  ser- 


THE  GRIZZLY  241 

iously  than  ever  of  what  Ransom  had  said  about  the 
first  people,  and  the  beginning  of  things. 

Late  in  October  they  swung  westward  through  the 
Sissipuk  and  Burntwood  water  ways  to  Nelson 
House,  and  at  this  point  Rameses  returned  home- 
ward. Roscoe  struck  north,  with  two  new  guides, 
end  on  the  eighteenth  of  November  the  first  of  the 
two  great  storms  which  made  the  year  of  1907  one 
of  the  most  tragic  in  the  history  of  the  far  Northern 
people  overtook  them  on  Split  Lake,  thirty  miles 
from  a  Hudson's  Bay  post.  It  was  two  weeks  later 
before  they  reached  this  post,  and  here  Roscoe  was 
given  the  first  of  several  warnings. 

"This  has  been  the  worst  autumn  we've  had  for 
years,"  said  the  factor  to  him.  "The  Indians 
haven't  caught  half  enough  fish  to  carry  them 
through,  and  this  storm  has  ruined  the  early-snow 
hunting  in  which  they  usually  get  enough  meat  to 
last  them  until  spring.  We're  stinting  ourselves  on 
our  own  supplies  now,  and  farther  north  the  Com- 
pany will  soon  be  on  famine  rations  if  the  cold  doesn't 
let  up — and  it  won't.  They  won't  want  an  extra 
mouth  up  there,  so  you'd  better  turn  back.  It's 
going  to  be  a  starvation  winter." 


242  THE  GRIZZLY 

But  Roscoe,  knowing  as  little  as  the  rest  of  man- 
kind of  the  terrible  famines  of  the  northern  people, 
which  keep  an  area  one-half  as  large  as  the  whole 
of  Europe  down  to  a  population  of  thirty  thousand, 
went  on.  A  famine,  he  argued,  would  give  him 
greater  opportunity  for  study. 

Two  weeks  later  he  was  at  York  Factory,  and  from 
there  he  continued  to  Fort  Churchill,  farther  up  on 
Hudson's  Bay.  By  the  time  he  reached  this  point, 
early  in  January,  the  famine  of  those  few  terrible 
weeks  during  which  more  than  fifteen  hundred  people 
died  of  starvation  had  begun.  From  the  Barren 
Lands  to  the  edge  of  the  southern  watershed  the 
earth  lay  under  from  four  to  six  feet  of  snow,  and 
from  the  middle  of  December  until  late  in  February 
the  temperature  did  not  rise  above  thirty  degrees 
below  zero,  and  remained  for  the  most  of  the  time 
between  fifty  and  sixty.  From  all  points  in  the  wil- 
derness reports  of  starvation  came  to  the  Company's 
posts.  Traplines  could  not  be  followed  because  of  the 
intense  cold.  Moose,  caribou,  and  even  the  furred 
animals  had  buried  themselves  under  the  snow.  In- 
dians and  halfbreeds  dragged  themselves  into  the 
posts.     Twice  Roscoe  saw  mothers  who  brought  dead 


THE  GRIZZLY  243 

babies  in  their  arms.  One  day  a  white  trapper  came  in 
with  his  dogs  and  sledge,  and  on  the  sledge,  wrapped 
in  a  bear  skin,  was  his  wife,  who  had  died  fifty  miles 
back  in  the  forest. 

Late  in  January  there  came  a  sudden  rise  in  the 
temperature,  and  Roscoe  prepared  to  take  advan- 
tage of  the  change  to  strike  south  and  westward 
again,  toward  Nelson  House.  Dogs  could  not  be  had 
for  love  or  money,  so  on  the  first  of  February  he  set 
out  on  snowshoes  with  an  Indian  guide  and  two  weeks' 
supply  of  provisions.  The  fifth  night,  in  the  wild, 
Barren  country  west  of  the  Etawney,  his  Indian  failed 
to  keep  up  the  fire,  and  when  Roscoe  investigated  he 
found  him  half  dead  with  a  strange  sickness.  Roscoe 
thought  of  smallpox,  the  terrible  plague  that  usually 
follows  northern  famine,  and  a  shiver  ran  through 
him.  He  made  the  Indian's  balsam  shelter  snow 
and  wind  proof,  cut  wood,  and  waited.  The  tem- 
perature fell  again,  and  the  cold  became  intense. 
Each  day  the  provisions  grew  less,  and  at  last  the 
time  came  when  Roscoe  knew  that  he  was  standing 
face  to  face  with  the  Great  Peril.  He  went  farther 
and  farther  from  camp  in  his  search  for  game.  But 
there  was  no  life.    Even  the  brush  sparrows  and 


244  THE  GRIZZLY 

snow  hawks  were  gone.  Once  the  thought  came  to 
him  that  he  might  take  what  food  was  left,  and 
accept  the  little  chance  that  remained  of  saving 
himself.  But  the  idea  never  got  further  than  a  first 
thought.  He  kept  to  his  post,  and  each  day  spent 
half  an  hour  in  writing.  On  the  twelfth  day  the 
Indian  died.  It  was  a  terrible  day,  the  beginning 
of  the  second  great  storm  of  that  winter.  There 
was  food  for  another  twenty-four  hours,  and  Roscoe 
packed  it,  together  with  his  blankets  and  a  little 
tinware.  He  wondered  if  the  Indian  had  died  of 
a  contagious  disease.  Anyway,  he  made  up  his 
mind  to  put  out  the  warning  for  others  if  they  came 
that  way,  and  over  the  dead  Indian's  balsam  shelter 
he  planted  a  sapling,  and  at  the  end  of  the  sapling 
he  fastened  a  strip  of  red  cotton  cloth — the  plague* 
signal  of  the  North. 

Then  he  struck  out  through  the  deep  snows  and 
the  twisting  storm,  knowing  that  there  was  no  more 
than  one  chance  in  a  thousand  ahead  of  him,  and 
that  his  one  chance  was  to  keep  the  wind  at  his 
back 

This  was  the  beginning  of  the  wonderful  experience 


THE  GRIZZLY  245 

which  Roscoe  Cummins  afterward  described  in  his 
book  Wv?The  First  People  and  the  Valley  of  Silent 
Men."  He  prepared  another  manuscript  which  for 
personal  reasons  was  never  published,  the  story  of  a 
dark-eyed  girl  of  the  First  People — but  this  is  to 
come.  It  has  to  do  with  the  last  tragic  weeks  of 
this  winter  of  1907,  in  which  it  was  a  toss-up  between 
all  things  of  flesh  and  blood  in  the  Northland  to  see 
which  would  win — life  or  death — and  in  which  a  pair 
of  dark  eyes  and  a  voice  from  the  First  People  turned 
a  sociologist  into  a  possible  Member  of  Parliament. 

At  the  end  of  his  first  day's  struggle  Roscoe  built 
himself  a  camp  in  a  bit  of  scrub  timber,  which  was 
not  much  more  than  brush.  If  he  had  been  an  older 
hand  he  would  have  observed  that  this  bit  of  timber, 
and  every  tree  and  bush  that  he  had  passed  since 
noon,  was  stripped  and  dead  on  the  side  that  faced 
the  north.  It  was  a  sign  of  the  Great  Barrens,  and 
of  the  fierce  storms  that  swept  over  them,  destroying 
even  the  life  of  the  trees.  He  cooked  and  ate  his 
last  food  the  following  day,  and  went  on.  The  small 
timber  turned  to  scrub,  and  the  scrub,  in  time,  to 
vast  snow  wastes  over  which  the  storm  swept  merci* 


246  THE  GRIZZLY 

lessly.  All  this  day  he  looked  for  game,  for  a  flutter 
of  bird  life;  he  chewed  bark,  and  in  the  afternoon  got 
a  mouthful  of  Fox-bite,  which  made  his  throat 
swell  until  he  could  scarcely  breathe.  At  night  he 
made  tea,  but  had  nothing  to  eat.  His  hunger  was 
acute  and  painful.  It  was  torture  the  next  day — 
the  third — for  the  process  of  starvation  is  a  rapid 
one  in  this  country  where  only  the  fittest  survive 
on  four  meals  a  day.  He  camped,  built  a  small  bush 
fire  at  night,  and  slept.  He  almost  failed  to  rouse 
himself  on  the  morning  that  followed,  and  when  he 
staggered  to  his  feet  and  felt  the  cutting  sting  of  the 
storm  still  in  his  face,  and  heard  the  swishing  wail 
of  it  over  the  Barren,  he  knew  that  at  last  the  mo* 
ment  had  come  when  he  was  standing  face  to  faca 
with  the  Almighty. 

For  some  strange  reason  he  was  not  frightened  at 
the  situation.  He  found  that  even  over  the  level 
spaces  he  could  scarcely  drag  his  snow  shoes,  but 
this  had  ceased  to  abtfO  him  as  he  had  been  alarmed 
at  first.  He  went  on,  hour  after  hour,  weaker  and 
weaker.  WitKn  himself  there  was  still  life  which 
reasoned  that  if  death  were  to  come  it  could  not 
come  in  a  better  way.    It  at  least  promised  to  be 


THE  GRIZZLY  247 

painless — even  pleasant.  The  sharp,  stinging  pains 
of  hunger,  like  little  electrical  knives  piercing  him, 
were  gone;  he  no  longer  experienced  a  sensation  of 
intense  cold;  he  almost  felt  that  he  could  lie  down  in 
the  drifted  snow  and  sleep  peacefully.  He  knew 
what  it  would  be — a  sleep  without  end — with  the 
arctic  foxes  to  pick  his  bones,  and  so  he  resisted  the 
temptation  and  forced  himself  onward.  The  storm 
still  swept  straight  west  from  Hudson's  Bay,  bring- 
ing with  it  endless  volleys  of  snow,  round  and  hard 
as  fine  shot;  snow  that  had  at  first  seemed  to  pierce 
his  flesh,  and  which  swished  past  his  feet,  as  if  trying 
to  trip  him,  and  tossed  itself  in  windrows  and  moun- 
tains in  his  path.  If  he  could  only  find  timber — 
shelter!  That  was  what  he  worked  for  now.  When 
he  had  last  looked  at  his  watch  it  was  nine  o'clock 
in  the  morning;  now  it  was  late  in  the  afternoon. 
It  might  as  well  have  been  night.  The  storm  had 
long  since  half  blinded  him.  He  could  not  see  a 
dozen  paces  ahead.  But  the  little  life  in  him  still 
reasoned  bravely.  It  was  a  heroic  spark  of  life,  a 
fighting  spark,  and  hard  to  put  out.  It  told  him  that 
when  he  came  to  shelter  he  would  at  least  feel  it, 
and  that  he  must  fight  until  the  last.    And  all  this 


248  THE  GRIZZLY 

time,  for  ages  and  ages  it  seemed  to  him,  he  kept 
mumbling  over  and  over  again  Ransom's  words: 

"Go  bach — Go  bach — Go  bach " 

They  rang  in  his  brain.  He  tried  to  keep  step 
with  their  monotone.  The  storm  could  not  drown 
them.  They  were  meaningless  words  to  him  now, 
but  they  kept  him  company.  Also,  his  rifle  was 
meaningless,  but  he  clung  to  it.  The  pack  on  his 
back  held  no  significance  and  no  weight  for  him. 
He  might  have  travelled  a  mile  or  ten  miles  an  hour 
and  he  would  not  have  sensed  the  difference.  Most 
men  would  have  buried  themselves  in  the  snow,  and 
died  in  comfort,  dreaming  the  pleasant  dreams  which 
come  as  a  sort  of  recompense  to  the  unfortunate 
who  die  of  starvation  and  cold.  But  the  fighting 
spark  commanded  Roscoe  to  die  upon  his  feet,  if  he 
died  at  all.  It  was  this  spark  which  brought  him  at 
last  to  a  bit  of  timber  thick  enough  to  give  him  shel- 
ter from  wind  and  snow.  It  burned  a  little  more 
warmly  then.  It  flared  up,  and  gave  him  new  vision. 
And,  for  the  first  time,  he  realized  that  it  must  be 
night.  For  a  light  was  burning  ahead  of  him,  and 
all  else  was  gloom.  His  first  thought  was  that  it 
was  a  campfire,  miles  and  miles  away.     Then  it 


THE  GRIZZLY  249 

drew  nearer — until  he  knew  that  it  was  a  light  in  a 
cabin  window.  He  dragged  himself  toward  it,  and 
when  he  came  to  the  door  he  tried  to  shout.  But  no 
sound  fell  from  his  swollen  lips.  It  seemed  an  hour 
before  he  could  twist  his  feet  out  of  his  snowshoes. 
Then  he  groped  for  a  latch,  pressed  against  the  door, 
and  plunged  in. 

What  he  saw  was  like  a  picture  suddenly  revealed 
for  an  instant  by  a  flashlight.  In  the  cabin  there 
were  four  men.  Two  sat  at  a  table,  directly  in  front 
of  him.  One  held  a  dice  box  poised  in  the  air,  and 
had  turned  a  rough,  bearded  face  toward  him.  The 
other  was  a  younger  man,  and  in  this  moment  of 
lapsing  consciousness  it  struck  Roscoe  as  strange 
that  he  should  be  clutching  a  can  of  beans  between 
his  hands.  A  third  man  stared  from  where  he  had 
been  looking  down  upon  the  dice-play  of  the  other 
two.  As  Roscoe  came  in  he  was  in  the  act  of  lower- 
ing a  half -filled  bottle  from  his  lips.  The  fourth  man 
sat  on  the  edge  of  a  bunk,  with  a  face  so  white  am1 
thin  that  he  might  have  been  taken  for  a  corpse 
if  it  had  not  been  for  a  dark  glare  in  his  sunken  eyes. 
Roscoe  smelled  the  odor  of  whisky;  he  smelled  food. 
He  saw  no  sign  of  welcome  in  the  faces  turned  toward 


250  THE  GRIZZLY, 

him,  but  he  advanced  upon  them,  mumbling  inco- 
herently. And  then  the  spark — the  fighting  spark 
in  him — gave  out,  and  he  crumpled  down  on  the 
floor.  He  heard  a  voice,  which  came  to  him — as  if 
from  a  great  distance,  and  which  said,  "Who  the 
h — I  is  this?"  And  then,  after  what  seemed  to  be  a 
long  time,  he  heard  another  voice  say,  "Pitch  him 
back  into  the  snow." 

After  that  he  lost  consciousness. 

A  long  time  before  he  awoke  he  knew  that  he  was 
not  in  the  snow,  and  that  hot  stuff  was  running  down 
his  throat.  When  he  opened  his  eyes  there  was  no 
longer  a  light  burning  in  the  cabin.  It  was  day. 
He  felt  strangely  comfortable,  but  there  was  some- 
thing in  the  cabin  that  stirred  him  from  his  rest.  It 
was  the  odour  of  frying  bacon.  He  raised  himself 
upon  his  elbow,  prepared  to  thank  his  deliverers, 
and  to  eat.  All  of  his  hunger  had  come  back.  The 
joy  of  life,  of  anticipation,  shone  in  his  thin  face  as 
he  pulled  himself  up.  Another  face — the  bearded 
face — red-eyed,  almost  animal-like  in  its  fierce 
questioning,  bent  over  him. 

"Where's  your  grub,  pardner?" 


THE  GRIZZLY  251 

The  question  was  like  a  stab.  Roscoe  did  not 
hear  his  own  voice  as  he  explained. 

"Got  none!"  The  bearded  man's  voice  was  like 
a  bellow  as  he  turned  upon  the  others. 

"He's  got  no  grub!" 

"We'll  divvy  up,  Jack,"  came  a  weak  voice.  It 
was  from  the  thin,  white-faced  man  who  had  sat 
corpse-like  on  the  edge  of  his  bunk  the  night  before. 

"Divvy  h— -1!"  growled  the  bearded  man,  "It's 
up  to  you — you  and  Scotty.     You're  to  blame!" 

You're  to  blame! 

The  words  struck  upon  Roscoe's  ears  with  a  chill 
of  horror.  He  recalled  the  voice  that  had  suggested 
throwing  him  back  into  the  snow.  Starvation  was 
in  the  cabin.  He  had  fallen  among  animals  instead  of 
men,  and  his  body  grew  cold  with  a  chill  that  was 
more  horrible  than  that  of  the  snow  and  the  wind. 
He  >  saw  the  thin-faced  man  who  had  spoken  for  him 
sitting  again  on  the  edge  of  his  bunk.  Mutely  he 
looked  to  the  others  to  see  which  was  Scotty.  He 
was  the  young  man  who  had  clutched  the  can  of 
beans.  It  was  he  who  was  frying  bacon  over  the 
sheet  iron  stove. 

"We'll  divvy—Henry  and  I,"  he  said.     "I  told 


25*  THE  GRIZZLY 

you  that  last  night."  He  looked  over  at  Roscoe. 
"Glad  you're  better,"  he  greeted.  "You  see— ■ 
you've  struck  us  at  a  bad  time.  We're  on  our  last 
legs  for  grub.  Our  two  Indians  went  out  to  hunt 
a  week  ago  and  never  came  back.  They're  dead — 
or  gone,  and  we're  as  good  as  dead  if  the  storm  doesn't 
let  up  pretty  soon.  You  can  have  some  of  our  grub 
— Henry's  and  mine." 

It  was  a  cold  invitation,  lacking  warmth  or  sym- 
pathy, and  Roscoe  felt  that  even  this  man  wished 
that  he  had  died  before  he  reached  the  cabin.  But 
the  man  was  human;  he  at  least  had  not  cast  his 
voice  with  those  who  had  wanted  to  throw  himi  back 
into  the  snow,  and  Roscoe  tried  to  voice  his  grati- 
tude, and  at  the  same  time  to  hide  his  hunger.  He 
saw  that  there  were  three  thin  slices  of  bacon  in  the 
frying  pan,  and  it  struck  him  that  it  would  be  bad 
taste  to  reveal  a  starvation  appetite  in  the  face  of 
such  famine.  He  came  up,  limping,  and  stood  on 
the  other  side  of  the  stove  from  Scotty. 

"You  saved  my  life,"  he  said,  holding  out  a  hand* 
"Will  you  shake?" 

Scotty  shook  hands  limply. 

"It's  h — 1,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice.     "We'd  have 


THE  GRIZZLY  253 

had  beans  this  morning  if  I  hadn't  shook  dice  with 
him  last  night."  He  nodded  toward  the  bearded  man, 
who  was  cutting  open  the  top  of  a  can.     "  He  won ! " 

"My  God!"  began  Roscoe. 

He  didn't  finish.  Scotty  turned  the  meat,  and 
added: 

"He  won  a  square  meal  off  me  yesterday — a 
quarter  of  a  pound  of  bacon.  Day  before  that  he 
won  Henry's  last  can  of  beans.  He's  got  his  share 
under  his  blanket  over  there,  and  swears  he'll  shoot 
any  one  who  goes  to  monkeying  with  his  bed — so 
you'd  better  fight  shy  of  it.  Thompson — he  isn't 
up  yet — chose  the  whisky  for  his  share,  so  you'd 
better  fight  shy  of  him,  too.  Henry  and  I'll  divvy 
up  with  you." 

"Thanks,"  said  Roscoe,  the  one  word  choking  him. 

Henry  came  from  his  bunk,  bent  and  wobbling. 
He  looked  like  a  dying  man,  and  for  the  first  time 
Roscoe  saw  that  his  hair  was  gray.  He  was  a  little 
man,  and  his  thin  hands  shook  as  he  held  them  out 
over  the  stove,  and  nodded  at  Roscoe.  The  bearded 
man  had  opened  his  can,  and  approached  the  stove 
with  a  pan  of  water,  coming  in  beside  Roscoe  with- 
out noticing  him.    He  brought  with  him  a  foul  odour 


254  THE  GRIZZLY 

of  stale  tobacco  smoke  and  whisky.  After  he  had 
put  his  water  over  the  fire  he  turned  to  one  of  the 
bunks  and  with  half  a  dozen  coarse  epithets  roused 
Thompson,  who  sat  up  stupidly,  still  half  drunk. 
Henry  had  gone  to  a  small  table,  and  Scotty  followed 
him  with  the  bacon.  But  Roscoe  did  not  move. 
He  forgot  his  hunger.  His  pulse  was  beating  quickly. 
Sensations  filled  him  which  he  had  never  known  or 
imagined  before.  He  had  known  tragedy;  he  had 
investigated  to  what  he  had  supposed  to  be  the 
depths  of  human  vileness — but  this  that  he  was 
experiencing  now  stunned  him.  Was  it  possible 
that  these  were  people  of  his  own  kind?  Had  a 
madness  of  some  sort  driven  all  human  instincts 
from  them?  He  saw  Thompson's  red  eyes  fastened 
upon  him,  and  he  turned  his  face  to  escape  their 
questioning,  stupid  leer.  The  bearded  man  was 
turning  out  the  can  of  beans  he  had  won  from  Scotty. 
Beyond  the  bearded  man  the  door  creaked,  and  Ros- 
coe heard  the  wail  of  the  storm.  It  came  to  him 
now  as  a  friendly  sort  of  sound. 

"Better  draw  up,  pardner,"  he  heard  Scotty  say. 
"Here's  your  share." 

One  of  the  thin  slices  of  bacon  and  a  hard  biscuit 


THE  GRIZZLY  %55 

Were  waiting  for  him  on  a  tin  plate.  He  ate  as 
ravenously  as  Henry  and  Scotty,  and  drank  a  cup 
of  hot  tea.  In  two  minutes  the  meal  was  over. 
It  was  terribly  inadequate.  The  few  mouthfuls  of 
food  stirred  up  all  his  craving,  and  he  found  it  im-* 
possible  to  keep  his  eyes  from  the  bearded  man  and 
his  beans.  The  bearded  man,  whom  Scotty  called 
Croker,  was  the  only  one  who  seemed  well  fed,  and 
his  horror  increased  when  Henry  bent  over  and  said 
to  him  in  a  low  whisper:  "He  didn't  get  my  beans 
fair.  I  had  three  aces  and  a  pair  of  deuces,  an*  he 
took  it  on  three  fives  and  two  sixes.  When  I  ob- 
jected he  called  me  a  liar  an'  hit  me.  Them's 
my  beans,  or  Scotty's!"  There  was  something  al- 
most like  murder  in  the  little  man's  red  eyes. 

Roscoe  remained  silent.  He  did  not  care  to  talk, 
or  question.  No  one  had  asked  him  who  he  was  or 
whence  he  came,  and  he  felt  no  inclination  to  know 
more  of  the  men  he  had  fallen  among.  Croker 
finished,  wiped  his  mouth  with  his  hand,  and  looked 
across  at  Roscoe. 

"  How  about  going  out  with  me  to  get  some  wood?" 
he  demanded. 

"I'm  ready,"  replied  Roscoe. 


956  THE  GRIZZLY 

For  the  first  time  he  took  notice  of  himself.  He 
was  lame,  and  sickeningly  weak,  but  apparently 
sound  in  other  ways.  The  intense  cold  had  not 
frozen  his  ears  or  feet.  He  put  on  his  heavy  moc- 
casins, his  thick  coat  and  fur  cap,  and  Croker  pointed 
to  his  rifle. 

"Better  take  that  along,"  he  said.  "Can't  tell 
what  you  might  see." 

Roscoe  picked  it  up  and  the  pack  which  lay  be* 
side  it.  He  did  not  catch  the  ugly  leer  which  the 
bearded  man  turned  upon  Thompson.  But  Henry 
did,  and  his  little  eyes  grew  smaller  and  blacker.  On 
snowshoes  the  two  men  went  out  into  the  storm, 
Croker  carrying  an  axe.  He  led  the  way  through  the 
bit  of  thin  timber,  and  across  a  wide  open  over  which 
the  storm  swept  so  fiercely  that  their  trail  was 
covered  behind  them  as  they  travelled.  Roscoe 
figured  that  they  had  gone  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
when  they  came  to  another  clump  of  trees,  and 
Croker  gave  him  the  axe. 

"You  can  cut  down  some  of  this,"  he  said.  "It's 
better  burning  than  that  back  there.  I'm  going  on 
for  a  dry  log  that  I  know  of.  You  wait  until  I  come 
back." 


THE  GRIZZLY  257 

Roscoe  set  to  work  upon  a  spruce,  but  he  could 
scarcely  strike  out  a  chip.  After  a  little  he  was  com- 
pelled to  drop  his  axe,  and  lean  against  the  tree, 
exhausted.  At  intervals  he  resumed  his  cutting. 
It  was  half  an  hour  before  the  small  tree  fell.  Then 
he  waited  for  Croker.  Behind  him  his  trail  was  al- 
ready obliterated.  After  a  little  he  raised  his  voice 
and  called  for  Croker.  There  was  no  reply.  The 
wind  moaned  above  him  in  the  spruce  tops.  It 
made  a  noise  like  the  wash  of  the  sea  out  on  the  open 
Barren.  He  shouted  again.  And  again.  The  truth 
dawned  upon  him  slowly — but  it  came.  Croker 
had  brought  him  out  purposely — to  lose  him.  He 
was  saving  the  bacon  and  the  cold  biscuits  back  in 
the  cabin.  Roscoe's  hands  clenched  tightly,  and 
then  they  relaxed.  At  last  he  had  found  what  he 
was  after — his  book!  It  would  be  a  terrible  book, 
if  he  carried  out  the  idea  that  flashed  upon  him  now 
m  the  wailing  and  twisting  of  the  storm.  And  then 
he  laughed,  for  it  occurred  to  him  quickly  that  the 
idea  would  die — with  himself.  He  might  find  the 
cabin,  but  he  would  not  make  the  effort.  Once 
more  he  would  fight  alone  and  for  himself.  The 
Spark  returned  to  him,  loyally*    He  buttoned  him- 


258  THE  GRIZZLY 

self  up  closely,  saw  that  his  snowshoes  were  securely 
fastened,  and  struck  out  once  more  with  his  back  to 
the  storm.  He  was  at  least  a  trifle  better  off  for 
meeting  with  the  flesh  and  blood  of  his  kind. 

The  clump  of  timber  thinned  out,  and  Roscoe 
struck  out  boldly  into  the  low  bush.  As  he  went,  he 
wondered  what  would  happen  in  the  cabin.  He 
believed  that  Henry,  of  the  four,  would  not  pull 
through  alive,  and  that  Croker  would  come  out  best. 
It  was  not  until  the  following  summer  that  he  learned 
the  facts  of  Henry's  madness,  and  of  the  terrible 
manner  in  which  he  avenged  himself  on  Croker  by 
sticking  a  knife  under  the  latter's  ribs. 

For  the  first  time  in  his  life  Roscoe  found  himself 
in  a  position  to  measure  accurately  the  amount  of 
energy  contained  in  a  slice  of  bacon  and  a  cold  bis- 
cuit. It  was  not  much.  Long  before  noon  his  old 
weakness  was  upon  him  again.  He  found  even 
greater  difficulty  in  dragging  his  feet  over  the  snow, 
and  it  seemed  now  as  though  all  ambition  had  left 
him,  and  that  even  the  fighting  spark  was  becoming 
disheartened.  He  made  up  his  mind  to  go  on  until 
the  arctic  gloom  of  night  began  mingling  with  the 
storm;  then  he  would  stop,  build  a  fire,  and  go  to 


THE  GRIZZLY  259 

Bleep  in  its  warmth.  He  would  never  wake  up, 
and  there  would  be  no  sensation  of  discomfort  in  his 
dying. 

During  the  afternoon  he  passed  out  of  the  scrub 
into  a  rougher  country.  His  progress  was  slower, 
but  more  comfortable,  for  at  times  he  found  himself 
protected  from  the  wind.  A  gloom  darker  and 
more  sombre  than  that  of  the  storm  was  falling  about 
him  when  he  came  to  what  appeared  to  be  the  end 
of  the  Barren.  The  earth  dropped  away  from  under 
his  feet,  and  far  below  him,  in  a  ravine  shut  out  from 
wind  and  storm,  he  saw  the  black  tops  of  thick  spruce. 
What  life  was  left  in  him  leaped  joyously,  and  he 
began  to  scramble  downward.  His  eyes  were  no 
longer  fit  to  judge  distance  or  chance,  and  he  slipped. 
He  slipped  a  dozen  times  in  the  first  five  minutes, 
and  then  there  came  the  time  when  he  did  not  make 
a  recovery,  but  plunged  down  the  side  of  the  moun- 
tain like  a  rock.  He  stopped  with  a  terrific  jar,  and 
for  the  first  time  during  the  fall  he  wanted  to  cry 
out  with  pain.  But  the  voice  that  he  heard  did  not 
come  from  his  own  lips.  It  was  another  voice — and 
then  two,  three,  many  of  them.  His  dazed  eyes 
caught  glimpses  of  dark  objects  floundering  in  the 


260  THE  GRIZZLY 

deep  snow  about  him,  and  just  beyond  these  objects 
were  four  or  five  tall  mounds  of  snow,  like  tents, 
arranged  in  a  circle.  A  number  of  times  that  winter 
Roscoe  had  seen  mounds  of  snow  like  these,  and  he 
knew  what  they  meant.  He  had  fallen  into  an 
Indian  village.  He  tried  to  call  out  the  words  of 
greeting  that  Rameses  had  taught  him,  but  he  had 
no  tongue.  Then  the  floundering  figures  caught 
him  up,  and  he  was  carried  to  the  circle  of  snow- 
mounds.  The  last  that  he  knew  was  that  warmth 
was  entering  his  lungs,  and  that  once  again  there 
came  to  him  the  low,  sweet  music  of  a  Cree  girl's 
voice. 

It  was  a  face  that  he  first  saw  after  that,  a  face 
that  seemed  to  come  to  him  slowly  from  out  of  night, 
approaching  nearer  and  nearer  until  he  knew  that  it 
was  a  girl's  face,  with  great,  dark,  shining  eyes 
whose  lustre  suffused  him  with  warmth  and  a  strange 
happiness.  It  was  a  face  of  wonderful  beauty,  he 
thought — of  a  wild  sort  of  beauty,  yet  with  some- 
thing so  gentle  in  the  shining  eyes  that  he  sighed 
restfully.  In  these  first  moments  of  his  returning 
consciousness  the  whimsical  thought  came  to  him 
that  he  was  dying,  and  the  face  was  a  part  of  a  pleas- 


THE  GRIZZLY         '  261 

ant  dream.  If  that  were  not  so  he  had  fallen  at  last 
among  friends.  His  eyes  opened  wider,  he  moved, 
and  the  face  drew  back.  Movement  stimulated 
returning  life,  and  reason  rehabilitated  itself  in  great 
bounds.  In  a  dozen  flashes  he  went  over  all  that 
had  happened  up  to  the  point  where  he  had  fallen 
down  the  mountain  and  into  the  Cree  camp. 
Straight  above  him  he  saw  a  funnel-like  peak  through 
which  there  drifted  a  blue  film  of  smoke.  He  was  in 
a  wigwam.  It  was  warm  and  exceedingly  comfort- 
able. Wondering  if  he  was  hurt,  he  moved.  The 
movement  drew  a  sharp  exclamation  of  pain  from 
him.  It  was  the  first  real  sound  he  had  made,  and 
in  an  instant  the  face  was  over  him  again.  He 
saw  it  plainly  this  time,  with  its  dark  eyes  and  oval 
cheeks  framed  between  two  great  braids  of  black 
hair.  A  hand  touched  his  brow  cool  and  gentle, 
and  a  sweet  voice  soothed  him  in  half  a  dozen  musi- 
cal words.     The  girl  was  a  Cree. 

At  the  sound  of  her  voice  an  Indian  woman  came 
up  beside  her,  looked  down  at  Roscoe  for  a  moment, 
and  then  went  to  the  door  of  the  wigwam,  speaking 
in  a  low  voice  to  some  one  who  was  outside.  When 
she  returned  a  man  followed  in  after  her.    He  was 


262  THE  GRIZZLY 

old  and  bent,  and  his  face  was  thin.  His  cheek- 
bones shone,  so  tightly  was  the  skin  drawn  over 
them.  And  behind  him  came  a  younger  man,  as 
straight  as  a  tree,  with  strong  shoulders,  and  a  head 
set  like  a  piece  of  bronze  sculpture.  Roscoe  thought 
of  Ransom  and  of  his  words  about  old  Rameses: 

"You  will  find  something  in  his  face  which  will 
recall  what  I  have  said,  and  make  you  think  of  the 
First  People." 

The  second  man  carried  in  his  hand  a  frozen  fish, 
which  he  gave  to  the  woman.  And  as  he  gave  it  to 
ker  he  spoke  words  in  Cree  which  Roscoe  understood. 

"It  is  the  last  fish." 

For  a  moment  some  terrible  hand  gripped  at 
Roscoe's  heart  and  stopped  its  beating.  He  saw 
the  woman  take  the  fish  and  cut  it  into  two  equal 
parts  with  a  knife,  and  one  of  these  parts  he  saw  her 
drop  into  a  pot  of  boiling  water  which  hung  over  the 
stone  fireplace  built  under  the  vent  in  the  wall.  The 
girl  went  up  and  stood  beside  the  older  woman,  with 
her  back  turned  to  him.  He  opened  his  eyes  wide, 
and  stared.  The  girl  was  tall  and  slender,  as  lithely 
and  as  beautifully  formed  as  one  of  the  northern 
lilies  that  thrust  their  slender  stems  from  between  the 


THE  GRIZZLY  263 

mountain  rocks.  Her  two  heavy  braids  fell  down 
her  back  almost  to  her  knees.  And  this  girl,  the 
woman,  the  two  men  were  dividing  with  him  their 
last  fish! 

He  made  an  effort  and  sat  up.  The  younger  man 
came  to  him,  and  put  a  bear  skin  at  his  back.  He 
had  picked  up  some  of  the  patois  of  half-blood 
French  and  English. 

"You  seek,"  he  said,  "you  hurt — you  hungr'. 
You  have  eat  soon." 

He  motioned  with  his  hand  to  the  boiling  pot. 
There  was  not  a  ficker  of  animation  in  his  splendid 
face.  There  was  something  godlike  in  his  immobility, 
something  that  was  awesome  in  the  way  he  moved 
and  breathed.  His  voice,  too,  it  seemed  to  Roscoe, 
was  filled  with  the  old,  old  mystery  of  the  beginning 
of  things,  of  history  that  was  long  dead  and  lost 
for  all  time.  And  it  came  upon  Roscoe  now,  like 
a  flood  of  rare  knowledge  descending  from  a  mys- 
terious source,  that  he  had  at  last  discovered  the 
key  to  new  life,  and  that  through  the  blindness  of 
reason,  through  starvation  and  death,  fate  had  led 
him  to  the  Great  Truth  that  was  dying  with  the 
last  sons  of  the  First  People.    For  the  half  of  the 


264  THE  GRIZZLY 

last  fish  was  brought  to  him,  and  he  ate;  and  when 
the  knowledge  that  he  was  eating  life  away  from 
these  people  choked  him,  and  he  thrust  a  part  of  it 
back,  the  girl  herself  urged  him  to  continue,  and  he 
finished,  with  her  dark,  glorious  eyes  fixed  upon  him 
and  sending  warm  floods  through  his  veins.  And 
after  that  the  men  bolstered  him  up  with  the  bear 
skin,  and  the  two  went  out  again  into  the  storm. 
The  woman  sat  hunched  before  the  fire,  and  after 
a  little  the  girl  joined  her  and  piled  fresh  fagots  on  the 
blaze.  Then  she  sat  beside  her,  with  her  chin  rest- 
ing in  the  little  brown  palms  of  her  hands,  the  fire 
lighting  up  a  half  profile  of  her  face  and  painting 
rich  colour  in  her  deep-black  hair. 

For  a  long  time  there  was  silence,  and  Roscoe 
lay  as  if  he  were  asleep.  It  was  not  an  ordinary 
silence,  the  silence  of  a  still  room,  or  of  emptiness — 
but  a  silence  that  throbbed  and  palpitated  with  an 
unheard  life,  a  silence  which  was  thrilling  because 
it  spoke  a  language  which  Roscoe  was  just  beginning 
to  understand.  The  fire  grew  redder,  and  the  cone- 
shaped  vacancy  at  the  top  of  the  tepee  grew  duskier, 
so  Roscoe  knew  that  night  was  falling  outside.  Far 
above  he  could  hear  the  storm  wailing  over  the  top 


THE  GRIZZLY  266 

of  the  mountain.  Redder  and  redder  grew  the  birch 
flame  that  lighted  up  the  profile  of  the  girl's  face. 
Once  she  turned,  so  that  he  caught  the  lustrous  dark- 
ness of  her  eyes  upon  him.  He  could  not  hear  the 
breath  of  the  two  in  front  of  the  fire.  He  heard  no 
sound  outside  except  that  of  the  wind  and  the  trees, 
and  all  grew  as  dark  as  it  was  silent  in  the  snow- 
covered  tepee,  except  in  front  of  the  fire.  And  then, 
as  he  lay  with  wide-open  eyes,  it  seemed  to  Roscoe 
as  though  the  stillness  was  broken  by  a  sob  that  was 
scarcely  more  than  a  sigh,  and  he  saw  the  girl's  head 
droop  a  little  lower  in  her  hands,  and  fancied  that  a 
shuddering  tremor  ran  through  her  slender  shoul- 
ders. The  fire  burned  low,  and  she  reached  out 
for  more  fagots.  Then  she  rose  slowly,  and  turned 
toward  him.  She  could  not  see  his  face  in  the  gloom, 
but  the  deep  breathing  which  he  feigned  drew  her  to 
him,  and  through  his  half-closed  eyes  he  could  see 
her  face  bending  over  him,  until  one  of  her  heavy 
braids  slipped  over  her  shoulder  and  fell  upon  his 
breast.  After  a  moment  she  sat  down  silently  beside 
him,  and  he  felt  her  fingers  brush  gently  through  his 
tangled  hair.  Something  in  their  light,  soft  touch 
thrilled  him,  and  he  moved  his  hand  in  the  darkness 


266  THE  GRIZZLY 

until  it  came  in  contact  with  the  big,  soft  braid  that 
still  lay  where  it  had  fallen  across  him.  He  was  on 
the  point  of  speaking,  but  the  fingers  left  his  hair 
and  stroked  as  gentle  as  velvet  over  his  storm-beaten 
face.  She  believed  that  he  was  asleep,  and  a  warm 
flood  of  shame  swept  through  him  at  the  thought  of 
his  hypocrisy.  The  birch  flared  up  suddenly,  and 
he  saw  the  glisten  of  her  hair,  the  glow  of  her  eyes, 
and  the  startled  change  that  came  into  them  when 
she  saw  that  his  own  eyes  were  wide  open,  and  look- 
ing up  at  her.  Before  she  could  move  he  had  caught 
her  hand,  and  was  holding  it  tighter  to  his  face— 
against  his  lips.  The  birch  bark  died  as  suddenly 
as  it  had  flared  up;  he  heard  her  breathing  quickly, 
he  saw  her  great  eyes  melt  away  like  lustrous  stars 
into  the  returning  gloom,  and  a  wild,  irresistible 
impulse  moved  him.  He  raised  his  free  hand  to  the 
dark  head,  and  drew  it  down  to  him,  holding  it 
against  his  feverish  face  while  he  whispered  Rame- 
ses's  prayer  of  thankfulness  in  Cree: 

"The  spirits  bless  you  forever,  Meeani" 
The  nearness  of  her,  the  touch  of  her  heavy  hair,  the 
caress  of  her  breath  stirred  him  still  more  deeply 
with  the  strange,  new  emotion  that  was  born  in  him. 


THE  GRIZZLY  367 

and  in  the  darkness  he  found  and  kissed  a  pair  of 
lips,  soft  and  warm 

The  woman  stirred  before  the  fire.  The  girl  drew 
back,  her  breath  coming  almost  sobbingly.  And 
then  the  thought  of  what  he  had  done  rushed  in  a 
flood  of  horror  upon  Roscoe.  These  wild  people  had 
saved  his  life;  they  had  given  him  to  eat  of  their  last 
fish;fcthey  were  nursing  him  back  from  the  very  thresh- 
old of  death — and  he  had  already  repaid  them  by 
offering  to  the  Cree  maiden  next  to  the  greatest 
insult  that  could  come  to  her  people.  He  remem- 
bered what  Rameses  had  told  him — that  the  Cree 
girl's  first  kiss  was  her  betrothal  kiss;  that  it  was  the 
white  garment  of  her  purity,  the  pledge  of  her  fealty 
forever.  He  lifted  himself  upon  his  elbow,  but  the 
girl  had  run  to  the  door.  Voices  came  from  outside, 
and  the  two  men  reentered  the  tepee.  He  under- 
stood enough  of  what  was  said  to  learn  that  the  camp 
had  been  holding  council,  and  that  two  men  were 
about  to  make  an  effort  to  reach  the  nearest  post. 
Each  tepee  was  to  furnish  these  two  men  a  bit  of 
food  to  keep  them  alive  on  their  terrible  hazard,  and 
the  woman  brought  forth  the  half  of  a  fish.  She  cut 
it  into  quarters,  and  with  one  of  the  pieces  the  elder 


268  THE  GRIZZLY 

man  went  out  again  into  the  night.  The  younger 
man  spoke  to  the  girl.  He  called  her  Oachi,  and  to 
Roscoe's  astonishment  spoke  in  French. 

"If  they  do  not  come  back,  or  if  we  do  not  find 
meat  in  seven  days,"  he  said,  "we  will  die." 

Roscoe  made  an  effort  to  rise,  and  the  effort 
sent  a  rush  of  fire  into  his  head.  He  turned 
dizzy,  and  fell  back  with  a  groan.  In  an  instant 
the  girl  was  at  his  side — ahead  of  the  man.  Her 
hands  were  at  his  face,  her  eyes  glowing  again. 
He  felt  that  he  was  falling  into  a  deep  sleep.  But  the 
eyes  did  not  leave  him.  They  were  wonderful  eyes, 
glorious  eyes!  He  dreamed  of  them  in  the  strange 
sleep  that  came  to  him,  and  they  grew  more  and  more 
beautiful,  shining  with  a  light  which  thrilled  him 
even  in  his  unconsciousness.  After  a  time  there 
came  a  black,  more  natural  sort  of  night  to  him.  He 
awoke  from  it  refreshed.  It  was  day.  The  tepee 
was  filled  with  light,  and  for  the  first  time  he  looked 
about  him.  He  was  alone.  A  fire  burned  low 
among  the  stones;  over  it  simmered  a  pot.  The 
earth  floor  of  the  tepee  was  covered  with  deer  and 
caribou  skins,  and  opposite  him  there  was  another 
bunk.     He  drew  himself  painfully  to  a  sitting  posture 


THE  GRIZZLY  269 

and  found  that  it  was  his  shoulder  and  hip  that  hurt 
him.  He  rose  to  his  feet,  and  stood  balancing  him- 
self feebly  when  the  door  to  the  tepee  was  drawn 
back  and  Oachi  entered.  At  sight  of  him,  standing 
up  from  his  bed,  she  made  a  quick  movement  to 
draw  back,  but  Roscoe  reached  out  his  hands  with 
a  low  cry  of  pleasure. 

"  Oachi,"  he  cried  softly.  "  Come  in ! "  He  spoke 
in  French,  and  Oachi's  face  lighted  up  like  sunlight. 
"I  am  better,"  he  said.  "I  am  well.  I  want  to 
thank  you — and  the  others."  He  made  a  step 
toward  her,  and  the  strength  of  his  left  leg  gave  way. 
He  would  have  fallen  if  she  had  not  darted  to  him  so 
quickly  that  she  made  a  prop  for  him-,  and  her  eyes 
looked  up  into  his  whitened  face,  big  and  frightened 
and  filled  with  pain. 

"Oo-ee-ee,"  she  said  in  Cree,  her  red  lips  rounded 
as  she  saw  him  flinch,  and  that  one  word,  a  song  in  a 
word,  came  to  him  like  a  flute  note. 

"It  hurts — a  little,"  he  said.  He  dropped  back  on 
his  bunk,  and  Oachi  sank  upon  the  skins  at  his  feet, 
looking  up  at  him  steadily  with  her  wonderful,  pure 
eyes,  her  mouth  still  rounded,  little  wrinkles  of  tense 
anxiety  drawn  in  her  forehead.     Roscoe  laughed. 


370  THE  GRIZZLY 

For  a  few  moments  his  soul  was  filled  with  a  strange 
gladness.  He  reached  out  his  hand  and  stroked  it 
over  her  shining  hair,  and  a  radiance  such  as  he  had 
never  seen  leapt  into  her  eyes.  "You — talk — 
French?"  he  asked  slowly. 

She  nodded. 

"Then  tell  me  this — you  are  hungry — starving?" 

She  nodded  again,  and  made  a  cup  of  her  two  small 

hands.    "No  meat.  This  little — so  much — flour " 

Her  throat  trembled  and  her  voice  fluttered.  But 
even  as  she  measured  out  their  starvation  her  face 
was  looking  at  him  joyously.  And  then  she  added, 
with  the  gladness  of  a  child,  "  Feesh,  for  you,"  and 
pointed  to  the  simmering  pot. 

"For  ME!"  Roscoe  looked  at  the  pot,  and  then 
back  at  her. 

"Oachi,"  he  said  gently,  "go  tell  your  father  that 
I  am  ready  to  talk  with  him.  Ask  him  to  come — ■ 
now." 

She  looked  at  him  for  a  moment  as  though  she 
did  not  quite  understand  what  he  had  said,  and  he 
repeated  the  words.  Even  as  he  was  speaking  he 
marvelled  at  the  fairness  of  her  skin,  which  shone 
with  a  pink  flush,  and  at  the  softness  and  beauty  of 


THE  GRIZZLY  271 

her  hair.    What  he  saw  impelled  him  to  ask,  as  she 
made  to  rise: 

"Your  father — your  mother — is  French.  Is  that 
so,  Oachi?"  The  girl  nodded  again,  with  the  soft 
little  Cree  throat  note  that  meant  yes.  Then  she 
slipped  to  her  feet  and  ran  out,  and  a  little  later 
there  came  into  the  tepee  the  man  who  had  first 
loomed  up  in  the  dusky  light  like  a  god  of  the  First 
People  to  Roscoe  Cummins.  His  splendid  face  was 
a  little  more  gaunt  than  the  night  before,  and  Roscoe 
knew  that  famine  came  hand  in  hand  with  him. 
He  had  seen  starvation  before,  and  he  knew  that  it 
reddened  the  eyes  and  gave  the  lips  a  grayish  pallor. 
These  things,  and  more,  he  saw  in  Oachi's  father. 
But  Mukoki  came  in  straight  and  erect,  hiding  his 
weakness  under  the  pride  of  his  race.  Fighting 
down  his  pain  Roscoe  rose  at  sight  of  him  and  held 
out  his  hands. 

"I  want  to  thank  you,"  he  said,  repeating  the 
words  he  had  spoken  to  Oachi.  "You  have  saved 
my  life.  But  I  have  eyes,  and  I  can  see.  You  gave 
me  of  your  last  fish.  You  have  no  meat.  You 
have  no  flour.  You  are  starving.  What?  I  have 
asked  you  to  come  and  tell  me,  so  that  I  may  know 


272  THE  GRIZZLY 

how  it  fares  with  your  women  and  children.  You 
will  give  me  a  council,  and  we  will  smoke."  Roscoe 
dropped  back  on  his  bunk.  He  drew  forth  his  pipe 
and  filled  it  with  tobacco.  The  Cree  sat  down 
mutely  in  the  centre  of  the  tepee.  They  smoked, 
passing  the  pipe  back  and  forth  without  speaking. 
Once  Roscoe  loaded  the  pipe,  and  once  the  chief  j 
and  when  the  last  puff  of  the  last  pipeful  was  taken 
the  Indian  reached  over  his  hand,  and  Roscoe  gripped 
it  hard. 

And  then,  while  the  storm  still  moaned  far  up  over 
their  heads,  Roscoe  Cummins  listened  to  the  old, 
old  story  of  the  First  People — the  story  of  starvation 
and  of  death.  To  him  it  was  epic.  It  was  terrible. 
But  to  the  other  it  was  the  mere  coming  and  going 
of  a  natural  thing,  of  a  thing  that  had  existed  for  him 
and  for  his  kind  since  life  began,  and  he  spoke  of  it 
quietly  and  without  a  gesture.  There  had  been  a 
camp  of  twenty-two,  and  there  were  now  fifteen. 
Seven  had  died,  four  men,  two  women,  and  one  child. 
Each  day  during  the  great  storm  the  men  had  gone 
out  on  their  futile  search  for  game,  and  every  few 
days  one  of  them  had  failed  to  return.  Thus  four 
had  died.     The  dogs  were  eaten.     Corn  and  fish 


THE  GRIZZLY  273 

were  gone;  there  remained  but  a  little  flour,  and  this 
was  for  the  women  and  the  children.  The  men  had 
eaten  nothing  but  bark  and  roots  for  five  days.  And 
there  seemed  to  be  no  hope.  It  was  death  to  stray 
far  from  the  camp.  That  morning  the  two  men  had 
set  out  for  the  post,  but  Mukoki  said  calmly  that 
they  would  never  return.  And  then  Roscoe  spoke 
of  Oachi,  his  daughter,  and  for  the  first  time  the 
iron  lines  of  the  chief's  bronze  face  seemed  to  soften, 
and  his  head  bent  over  a  little,  and  his  shoulders 
drooped.  Not  until  then  did  Roscoe  learn  the  depths 
of  sorrow  hidden  behind  the  splendid  strength  of  the 
starving  man.  Oachi's  mother  had  been  a  French 
Woman.  Six  months  before  she  had  died  in  this 
tepee,  and  Mukoki  had  buried  his  wife  up  on  the 
face  of  the  mountain,  where  the  storm  was  moaning. 
After  this  Roscoe  could  not  speak.  He  was  choking. 
He  loaded  his  pipe  again,  and  sat  down  close  to  the 
chief,  so  that  their  knees  and  their  shoulders  touched, 
and  thus,  as  taught  him  by  old  Rameses,  he  smoked 
With  Oachi's  father  the  pledge  of  eternal  friendship, 
of  brotherhood  in  life,  of  spirit  communion  in  the 
Valley  of  Silent  Men.  After  that  Mukoki  left  him 
and  he  crawled  back  upon  his  bunk,  weak  and  filled 


274  THE  GRIZZLY 

with  pain,  knowing  that  he  was  facing  death  with 
the  others.  He  was  not  afraid,  but  was  filled  with 
a  great  thankfulness  that,  even  at  the  price  of  star- 
vation, fate  had  allowed  him  to  touch  at  last  the 
edge  of  the  fabric  of  his  dreams.  All  of  that  day  he 
wrote,  in  the  hours  when  he  felt  best.  He  filled  page 
after  page  of  the  tablets  which  he  carried  in  his  pack, 
writing  feverishly  and  with  great  haste,  oppressed 
only  by  the  fear  that  he  would  not  be  able  to  finish 
the  message  which  he  had  for  the  people  of  that  other 
world  a  thousand  miles  away.  Three  times  during 
the  morning  Oachi  came  in  and  brought  him  the 
cooked  fish  and  a  biscuit  which  she  had  made  for 
him  out  of  flour  and  meal.  And  each  time  he  said, 
"I  am  a  man  with  the  other  men,  Oachi.  I  would 
be  a  woman  if  I  ate." 

The  third  time  Oachi  knelt  close  down  at  his  side, 
and  when  he  refused  the  food  again  there  came  a 
strange  light  into  her  eyes,  and  she  said,  "If  you 
starve — I  starve!" 

It  was  the  first  revelation  to  him.  He  put  up  his 
hands.  They  touched  her  face.  Some  potent  spirit 
in  him  carried  him  across  all  gulfs.  In  that  mo- 
ment, thrilling,  strange,  he  was  heart  and  soul  of 


THE  GRIZZLY  £75 

the  First  People.  In  an  instant  he  had  drifted  back 
a  thousand  years,  beyond  the  memory  of  cities,  of 
clubs,  of  all  that  went  with  civilization.  A  wild, 
half  savage  longing  filled  him.  One  of  his  hands 
slipped  to  her  shining  hair,  and  suddenly  their  faces 
lay  close  to  each  other,  and  he  knew  that  in  that 
moment  love  had  come  to  him  from  the  fount  of 
glory  itself. 

Days  followed — black  days  filled  with  the  endless 
terrors  of  the  storm.  And  yet  they  were  days  of  a 
strange  contentment  which  Roscoe  had  never  felt 
before.  Oachi  and  her  father  were  with  him  a  great 
deal  in  the  tepee  which  they  had  given  up  to  him. 
On  the  third  day  Roscoe  noticed  that  Oachi's  little 
hands  were  bruised  and  red  and  he  found  that  the 
chief's  daughter  had  gone  out  to  dig  down  through 
ice  and  snow  with  the  other  women  after  roots. 
The  camp  lived  entirely  on  roots  now — wild  flag 
and  moose  roots  ground  up  and  cooked  in  a  batter. 
On  this  same  day,  late  in  the  afternoon,  there  came 
a  low  wailing  grief  from  one  of  the  tepees,  a  moaning 
sound  that  pitched  itself  to  the  key  of  the  storm  until 
it  seemed  to  be  a  part  of  it.     A  child  had  died,  and 


276  THE  GRIZZLY 

the  mother  was  mourning.     That  night  another  of 
the  camp  huntsmen  failed  to  return  at  dusk. 

The  next  day  Roscoe  was  able  to  move  about 
in  his  tepee  without  pain.     Oachi  and  her  father 
were  with  him  when,  for  the  first  time,  he  got  out 
his  comb  and  military  brushes  and  began  grooming 
his  touselled  hair.    Oachi  watched  him,  and  suddenly, 
seeing  the  wondering  pleasure  in  her  eyes,  he  held 
out   the   brushes   to   her.     "You  may  have  them, 
Oachi,"  he  said,  and  the  girl  accepted  them  with  a 
soft  little  cry  of  delight.     To  his  amazement  she 
began  unbraiding  her  hair  immediately,  and  then 
she  stood  up  before  him,  hidden  to  her  knees  in  her 
wonderful   wealth   of  shining  tresses,   and  Roscoe 
Cummins  thought  in  this  moment  that  he  had  never 
seen  a  woman  more  beautiful  than  the  half  Cree 
girl.     When  they  had  gone  he  still  saw  her,  and  the 
vision  troubled  him.     They  came  in  again  at  night, 
when  the  fire  was  sending  red  and  yellow  lights  up 
and  down  the  tepee  walls,  and  the  more  he  watched 
Oachi  the  stronger  there  grew  within  him  something 
that  seemed  to  gnaw  and  gripe  with  a  dull  sort  of 
pain.     Oachi   was   beautiful.     He  had   never   seen 
hair  like  her  hair.    "He  had  never  before  seen  eyes 


THE  GRIZZLY  277 

more  beautiful.  He  had  never  heard  a  voice  so  low 
and  sweet  and  filled  with  bird-like  ripples  of  music. 
She  was  beautiful,  and  yet  with  her  beauty  there  was 
a  primitiveness,  a  gentle  savagery,  and  an  age-old 
story  written  in  the  fine  lines  of  her  face  which  made 
him  uneasy  with  the  thought  of  a  thing  that  was 
almost  tragedy.  Oachi  loved  him.  He  could  see 
that  love  in  her  eyes,  in  her  movement;  he  could  feel 
it  in  her  presence,  and  the  sweet  song  of  it  trembled 
in  her  voice  when  she  spoke  to  him.  Ordinarily  a 
white  man  would  have  accepted  this  love;  he  would 
have  rejoiced  in  it,  and  would  have  played  with  it 
for  a  time,  as  they  have  done  with  the  loves  of  the 
women  of  Oachi's  people  since  the  beginning  of 
white  man's  time.  But  Roscoe  Cummins  was  of  a 
different  type.  He  was  a  man  of  ideals,  and  in 
Oachi's  love  he  saw  his  ideal  of  love  set  apart  from 
him  by  illimitable  voids.  This  night,  in  the  firelit 
tepee,  there  came  to  him  like  a  painful  stab  the  truth 
of  Ransom's  words.  He  had  been  born  some  thou- 
sands of  years  too  late.  He  saw  in  Oachi  love  and 
life  as  they  might  have  been  for  him;  but  beyond 
them  he  also  saw,  like  a  grim  and  threatening  hand,  a 
vision  of  cities,  of  toiling  millions,  of  a  great  work 


278  THE  GRIZZLY 

just  begun — a  vision  of  life  as  it  was  intended  that 
he  should  live  it;  and  to  shut  it  out  from  him  he 
bowed  his  head  in  his  two  hands,  overwhelmed  by  a 
new  grief. 

The  chief  sat  with  his  face  to  the  fire,  smoking 
silently,  and  Oachi  came  to  Roscoe's  side,  and 
touched  hands  timidly,  like  a  little  child.  She 
seemed  to  him  wondrously  like  a  child  when  he  lifted 
his  head  and  looked  down  into  her  face.  She 
smiled  at  him,  questioning  him,  and  he  smiled  his 
answer  back,  yet  neither  broke  the  silence  with 
words.  He  heard  only  the  soft  little  note  in  Oachi's 
throat  that  filled  him  with  such  an  exquisite  sen- 
sation, and  he  wondered  what  music  would  be  if  it 
could  find  expression  through  a  voice  like  hers. 

"Oachi,"  he  asked  softly,  "why  did  you  never 
sing?" 

The  girl  looked  at  him  in  silence  for  a  mc  lent. 

"We  starve,"  she  said.  She  swept  ner  han<* 
toward  the  door  of  the  tepee.  "We  starve — die — 
there  is  no  song." 

He  put  his  hand  under  her  chin  and  lifted  her  face 
to  him,  as  he  might  have  done  with  a  little  child. 

"I  wish  you  would  sing,  Oachi,"  he  said. 


THE  GRIZZLY  279 

For  a  moment  the  girl's  dark  eyes  glowed  up  at 
him.  Then  she  drew  back  softly,  and  seated  herself 
before  the  fire,  with  her  back  turned  toward  him, 
close  beside  her  father.  A  strange  quiet  filled  the 
tepee.  Over  their  heads  the  wailing  storm  seemed 
to  die  for  a  moment;  and  then  something  rose  in  its 
place,  so  low  and  gentle  at  first  that  it  seemed  like  a 
whisper,  but  growing  in  sweetness  and  volume  until 
Roscoe  Cummins  sat  erect,  his  eyes  flashing,  his 
hands  clenched,  looking  at  Oachi.  The  storm  rose, 
and  with  it  the  song — a  song  that  reached  down 
into  his  soul,  stirring  him  now  with  its  gladness, 
now  with  a  half  savage  pain;  but  always  with  a  sweet- 
ness that  engulfed  for  him  all  other  things,  until  he 
was  listening  only  to  the  voice.  And  then  silence 
came  again  within  the  tepee.  Over  the  mountain 
the  wind  burst  more  fiercely.  The  chief  sat  motion- 
less. In  Oachi's  hair  the  firelight  glistened  with  a 
dull  radiance.  There  was  quiet,  and  yet  Roscoe 
still  heard  the  voice.  He  knew  that  he  would 
always  hear  it,  that  it  would  never  die. 

Not  until  long  afterward  did  he  know  that  Oachi 
had  sung  to  him  the  great  love  song  of  the  Crees. 

That  night  and  the  next  day,  and  the  terrible  night 


280  THE  GRIZZLY 

and  day  that  followed,  Roscoe  fought  with  himself. 
He  won — when  alone — and  lost  when  Oachi  was 
with  him.  In  some  ways  she  knew  intuitively  that 
he  loved  to  see  her  with  her  splendid  hair  down,  and 
she  would  sit  at  his  feet  and  brush  it,  while  he  tried 
to  hide  his  admiration  and  smother  the  passion 
which  sprang  up  in  his  breast  when  she  was  near. 
He  knew,  in  these  moments,  that  it  was  too  late  to 
kill  the  thing  that  was  born  in  him — the  craving  of 
his  heart  and  his  soul  for  this  girl  of  the  First  People 
who  had  laid  her  life  at  his  feet  and  who  was  removed 
from  him  by  barriers  which  he  could  never  pass. 
On  the  afternoon  of  his  seventh  day  in  camp  an 
Indian  hunter  ran  in  from  the  forest  nearly  crazed 
with  joy.  He  had  ventured  farther  away  than  the 
others,  and  had  found  a  moose-yard.  He  had  killed 
two  of  the  animals.  The  days  of  famine  were  over. 
Oachi  brought  the  first  news  to  Roscoe.  Her  face 
was  radiant  with  joy,  her  eyes  burned  like  stars, 
and  in  her  excitement  she  stretched  out  her  arms  to 
him  as  she  cried  out  the  wonderful  news.  Roscoe 
took  her  two  hands. 

" Is  it  true,  Oachi?  "  he  asked.     " They  have  surely 
killed  meat?" 


THE  GRIZZLY  281 

"Yes — yes — yes,"  she  cried.  "They  have  killed 
meat — much  meat " 

She  stopped  at  the  strange,  hard  look  in  Roscoe's 
eyes.  He  was  looking  overhead.  If  he  had  looked 
down,  into  the  glory  and  love  of  her  eyes,  he  would 
have  swept  her  close  in  his  arms,  and  the  last  fight 
would  have  been  over  then  and  there.  Oachi  went 
out,  wondering  at  the  coldness  with  which  he  had 
received  the  word  of  their  deliverance,  and  little 
guessing  that  in  that  moment  he  had  fought  the 
greatest  battle  of  his  life.  Each  day  after  this  called 
him  back  to  the  fight.  His  two  broken  ribs  healed 
slowly.  The  storm  passed.  The  sun  followed  it, 
and  the  March  winds  began  bringing  up  warmth  from 
the  south.  Days  grew  into  weeks,  and  the  snow 
was  growing  soft  underfoot  before  he  dared  venture 
forth  short  distances  from  the  camp  alone.  He 
tried  often  to  make  Oachi  understand,  but  he  always 
stopped  short  of  what  he  meant  to  say;  his  hand 
would  steal  to  her  beautiful  hair,  and  in  Oachi's 
throat  would  sound  the  inimitable  little  note  of 
happiness.  Each  day  he  was  more  and  more 
handicapped.  For  in  the  joy  of  her  great  love 
Oachi  became  more  beautiful  and  her  voice   still 


282  THE  GRIZZLY 

sweeter.  By  the  time  the  snows  began  running 
down  from  the  mountains  and  the  poplar  buds  began 
to  swell  she  was  telling  him  the  most  sacred  of  all 
sacred  things,  and  one  day  she  told  him  of  the  won- 
derful world  far  to  the  west,  painted  by  the  glow  of 
the  setting  sun,  wherein  lay  the  Valley  of  Silent 
Men. 

"And  that  is  Heaven — your  Heaven,"  breathed 
Roscoe.  He  was  almost  well  now,  but  he  was  sitting 
on  the  edge  of  his  bunk,  and  Oachi  knelt  in  the  old 
place  upon  the  deer  skin  at  his  feet.  As  he  spoke 
he  stroked  her  hair. 

"Tell  me,"  he  said,  "what  sort  of  a  place  it  is, 
Oachi." 

"It  is  beautiful,"  spoke  Oachi  softly. 

"Long,  long  ago  the  Great  God  came  down  among 
us  and  lived  for  a  time;  and  He  came  at  a  time  like 
that  which  has  just  passed,  and  He  saw  suffering, 
and  hunger,  and  death.  And  when  He  saw  what 
life  was  He  made  for  us  another  world,  and  told  us 
that  it  should  be  called  the  Valley  of  Silent  Men; 
and  that  when  we  died  we  would  go  to  this  place, 
and  that  at  last — when  all  of  our  race  were  gone — » 
He  would  cause  the  earth  to  roll  three  times,  and  in 


THE  GRIZZLY  283 

the  Valley  of  Silent  Men  all  would  awaken  into  life 
which  would  never  know  death,  or  sorrow,  or  pain 
again.  And  He  says  that  those  who  love  will  awaken 
there — hand  in  hand." 

"It  is  beautiful,"  said  Roscoe.  He  felt  himself 
trembling.  Oachi's  breath  was  against  his  hand.  It 
was  his  last  fight.  He  half  reached  out,  as  if  to  clasp 
her  to  him;  but  beyond  her  he  still  saw  the  other 
thing — the  other  world.  He  rose  to  his  feet,  not 
daring  to  look  at  her  now.  He  loved  her  too  much 
to  sacrifice  her.  And  it  would  be  a  sacrifice.  He 
tried  to  speak  firmly. 

"Oachi,"  he  said,  "I  am  nearly  well  enough  to 
travel  now.  I  have  spent  pleasant  weeks  with  you, 
weeks  which  I  shall  never  forget.  But  it  is  time  for 
me  to  go  back  to  my  people.  They  are  expecting 
me.  They  are  waiting  for  me,  and  wondering  at  my 
absence.  I  am  as  you  would  be  if  you  were  down 
there  in  a  great  city.  So  I  must  go.  I  must  go 
to-morrow,  or  the  next  day,  or  soon  after.  Oachi—- —  " 

He  still  looked  where  he  could  not  see  her  face. 
But  he  heard  her  move.  He  knew  that  slowly  she 
was  drawing  away 

"Oachi " 


£84  THE  GRIZZLY 

She  was  near  the  door  now,  and  his  eyes  turned 
toward  her.  She  was  looking  back,  her  slender 
shoulders  bent  over,  her  glorious  hair  rippling  to  her 
knees,  as  she  had  left  it  undone  for  him.  In  her 
eyes  was  love  such  as  falls  from  the  heavens.  But 
her  face  was  as  white  as  a  mask. 

"Oachi!" 

With  a  cry  Roscoe  reached  out  his  arms.  But 
Oachi  was  gone.    At  last  the  Cree  girl  understood. 

Three  days  later  there  came  in  the  passing  of  a 
single  day  and  night  the  splendour  of  northern  spring. 
The  sun  rose  warm  and  golden.  From  the  sides  of 
the  mountains  and  in  the  valleys  water  poured 
forth  in  rippling,  singing  floods.  There  bakneesh 
glowed  on  bared  rocks.  Moose-birds,  and  jays,  and 
wood-thrushes  flitted  about  the  camp,  and  the 
air  was  filled  with  the  fragrant  smells  of  new 
life  bursting  from  earth,  and  tree,  and  shrub.  On 
this  morning  of  the  third-day  Roscoe  strode  forth  from 
his  tepee,  with  his  pack  upon  his  back.  An  Indian 
guide  waited  for  him  outside.  He  had  smoked  his 
last  pipe  with  the  chief,  and  now  he  went  from  tepee 
to  tepee,  in  the  fashion  of  the  Crees,  and  drew  a 


THE  GRIZZLY  285 

single  jraff  from  the  pipe  of  each  master,  until  there 
was  but  one  tepee  left,  and  in  that  was  Oachi.  With 
a  white  face  he  rubbed  his  hand  over  the  deer-flap, 
and  waited.  Slowly  it  was  drawn  back,  and  Oachi 
came  out.  He  had  not  seen  her  since  the  night  he 
had  driven  her  from  him,  and  he  had  planned  to 
say  things  in  this  last  moment  which  he  might  have 
said  then.  But  words  stumbled  on  his  lips.  Oachi 
was  changed.  She  seemed  taller.  Her  beautiful 
eyes  looked  at  him  clearly  and  proudly.  For  the 
first  time  she  was  to  him  Oachi,  the  "Sun  Child,"  a 
princess  of  the  First  People — the  daughter  of  a  Cree 
chief.  He  held  out  his  hand,  and  the  hand  which 
Oachi  gave  to  him  was  cold  and  lifeless.  She  smiled 
when  he  told  her  that  he  had  come  to  say  good-bye, 
and  when  she  spoke  to  him  her  voice  was  as  clear  as 
the  stream  singing  through  the  canon.  His  own 
voice  trembled.  In  spite  of  his  mightiest  effort  a 
tightening  fist  seemed  choking  him. 

"I  am  coming  back — some  day,"  he  managed. 

Oachi  smiled,  with  the  glory  of  the  morning  sun  in 
her  eyes  and  hair.  She  turned,  still  smiling,  and 
pointed  far  to  the  west. 

"And  some  day — the  Valley  of  Silent  Men  will 


£86  THE  GRIZZLY 

awaken,"  she  said,  and  reentered  her  father's 
tepee. 

Out  of  the  camp  staggered  Roscoe  Cummins  behind 
his  Indian  guide,  a  blinding  heat  in  his  eyes.  Once  or 
twice  a  gulping  sob  rose  in  his  throat,  and  he  clutched 
hard  at  his  heart  to  beat  himself  into  submission  to 
the  great  law  of  life  as  it  had  been  made  for  him. 

An  hour  later  the  two  came  to  a  stream  where 
there  was  a  canoe.  Because  of  rapids  and  the 
fierceness  of  the  spring  floods,  portages  were  many, 
and  progress  slow  during  the  whole  of  that  day. 
They  had  made  twenty  miles  when  the  sun  began 
sinking  in  the  west,  and  they  struck  camp.  After 
their  supper  of  meat  the  Cree  rolled  himself  in  his 
blanket  and  slept.  But  for  long  hours  Roscoe  sat 
beside  their  fire.  Night  dropped  about  him,  a 
splendid  night  filled  with  sweet  breaths  and  stars 
and  a  new  moon,  and  with  strange  sounds  which 
came  to  him  now  in  a  language  which  he  was  begin- 
ning to  understand.  From  far  away  there  floated 
faintly  to  his  ears  the  lonely  cry  of  a  wolf,  and  it  no 
longer  made  him  shudder,  but  filled  him  with  the 
mysterious  longing  of  the  cry  itself.  It  was  the 
mate-song  of  the  beast  of  prey,  sending  up  its  message 


THE  GRIZZLY  287 

to  the  stars — crying  out  to  all  the  wilderness  for  a 
response  to  its  loneliness.  Night  birds  twittered 
about  him.  A  loon  laughed  in  its  mocking  joy.  An 
owl  hooted  down  at  him  from  the  black  top  of  a  tall 
spruce.  From  out  of  starvation  and  death  the  wil- 
derness had  awakened.  Its  sounds  spoke  to  him  still 
of  grief ,  of  the  suffering  that  would  never  know  end; 
and  yet  there  trembled  in  them  a  note  of  happiness 
and  of  content.  Beside  the  campfire  it  came  to 
him  that  in  this  world  he  had  discovered  two  things — ■ 
a  suffering  that  he  had  never  known,  and  a  peace  he 
had  never  known.  And  Oachi  stood  for  them  both. 
He  thought  of  her  until  drowsiness  drew  a  pale  film 
over  his  eyes.  The  birch  crackled  more  and  more 
faintly  in  the  fire  and  sounds  died  away.  The  still- 
ness of  sleep  fell  about  him.  Scarce  had  he  fallen 
into  slumber  than  his  eyes  seemed  to  open  wide  and 
wakeful,  and  out  of  the  gloom  beyond  the  smoulder- 
ing fire  he  saw  a  human  form  slowly  revealing  itself, 
until  there  stood  clearly  within  his  vision  a  figure 
which  he  at  first  took  to  be  that  of  Mukoki,  the  chief. 
But  in  another  moment  he  saw  that  it  was  even  taller 
than  the  tall  chief,  and  that  its  eyes  had  searched 
him  out.    When  he  heard  a  voice,  speaking  in  Creo 


288  THE  GRIZZLY 

the  words  which  mean,  "Whither  goest  thou?"  he 
was  startled  to  hear  his  own  voice  reply:  "I  am 
going  back  to  my  people." 

He  stared  into  vacancy,  for  at  the  sound  of  his 
voice  the  vision  faded  away;  but  there  came  a  voice 
to  him  back  through  the  night,  which  said:  "And 
it  is  here  that  you  have  found  that  of  which  you  have 
dreamed — Life,  and  the  Valley  of  Silent  Men!" 

Roscoe  was  wide  awake  now.  The  voice  and  the 
vision  had  seemed  so  real  to  him  that  he  looked 
about  him  tremblingly  into  the  starlit  gloom  of  the 
forest,  as  if  not  quite  sure  that  he  had  been  dreaming. 
Then  he  crawled  into  his  balsam  shelter,  drew  his 
blankets  about  him,  and  fell  asleep. 

The  next  day  he  had  little  to  say  to  his  Indian 
companion  as  they  made  their  way  downstream. 
At  each  dip  of  their  paddles  a  deeper  sickness  seemed 
to  enter  into  his  heart.  Life,  after  all,  he  tried  to 
reason,  was  like  a  tailored  garment.  One  might 
have  an  ideal,  and  if  that  ideal  became  a  realization 
it  would  be  found  a  misfit  for  one  reason  or  another. 
So  he  told  himself,  in  spite  of  all  the  dreams  which 
had  urged  him  on  in  the  fight  for  better  things. 
There  flooded  upon  him  now  the  forceful  truth  of 


THE  GRIZZLY  £89 

what  Ransom  had  said.  His  work,  as  he  had  begun 
it,  was  at  an  end,  his  fabric  of  idealism  had  fallen 
into  ruins.  For  he  had  found  all  that  was  ideal — 
love,  faith,  purity,  and  beauty — and  he,  Roscoe 
Cummins,  the  idealist,  had  repulsed  them  because 
they  were  not  dressed  in  the  tailored  fashion  of  his 
kind.  He  told  himself  the  truth  with  brutal  direct- 
ness. Before  him  he  saw  another  work  in  his  books, 
but  of  a  different  kind;  and  each  hour  that  passed 
added  to  the  conviction  within  him  that  at  last  that 
work  would  prove  a  failure.  He  went  off  alone  into 
the  forest  when  they  camped,  early  in  the  afternoon, 
and  thought  of  Oachi,  who  would  mourn  him  until 
the  end  of  time.  And  he — could  he  forget?  What  if 
he  had  yielded  to  temptation,  and  had  taken  Oachi 
with  him?  She  would  have  come.  He  knew  that. 
She  would  have  sacrificed  herself  to  him  forever, 
would  have  gone  with  him  into  a  life  which  she  could 
not  understand,  and  would  never  understand,  sat- 
isfied to  live  in  his  love  alone.  The  old,  choking 
hand  gripped  at  his  heart,  and  yet  with  the  pain  of  it 
there  was  still  a  rejoicing  that  he  had  not  surrendered 
to  the  temptation,  that  he  had  been  strong  enough 
to  save  her. 


290  THE  GRIZZLY 

The  last  light  of  the  setting  sun  cast  film-like 
webs  of  yellow  and  gold  through  the  forest  as  he 
turned  in  the  direction  of  camp.  It  was  that  hour 
in  which  a  wonderful  quiet  falls  upon  the  wilderness, 
the  last  minutes  between  night  and  day,  when  all 
wild  life  seems  to  shrink  in  suspensive  waiting  for 
the  change.  Seven  months  had  taught  Roscoe  a 
quiet  of  his  own.  His  moccasined  feet  made  no 
sound.  His  head  was  bent,  his  shoulders  had  a  tired 
droop,  and  his  eyes  searched  for  nothing  in  the  mys- 
tery about  him.  His  heart  seemed  weighted  under  a 
pressure  that  had  taken  all  life  from  him,  and  close 
above  him,  in  a  balsam  bough,  a  night  bird  twittered. 
In  response  to  it  a  low  cry  burst  from  his  lips,  a  cry 
of  loneliness  and  of  grief.  In  that  moment  he  saw 
Oachi  again  at  his  feet;  he  heard  the  low,  sweet  note 
of  love  in  her  throat,  so  much  like  that  of  the  bird 
over  his  head;  he  saw  the  soft  lustre  of  her  hair,  the 
glory  of  her  eyes,  looking  up  at  him  from  the  half 
gloom  of  the  tepee,  telling  him  that  they  had  found 
their  god.  It  was  all  so  near,  so  real  for  a  momentf 
that  he  sprang  erect,  his  fingers  clutching  handfuls 
of  moss.  He  looked  toward  the  camp,  and  he  saw 
something  move  between  the  rock  and  the  fire. 


THE  GRIZZLY  201 

It  was  a  wolf,  he  thought,  or  perhaps  a  lynx,  and 
drawing  his  revolver  he  moved  quickly  and  silently 
in  its  direction.  The  object  had  disappeared  behind 
a  little  clump  of  balsam  shrub  within  fifty  paces  of 
the  camp,  and  as  he  drew  nearer,  until  he  was  no 
more  than  ten  paces  away,  he  wondered  why  it  did 
not  break  cover. 

There  were  no  trees,  and  it  was  quite  light  where 
the  balsam  grew.  He  approached,  step  by  step. 
And  then,  suddenly,  from  almost  under  his  hands, 
something  darted  away  with  a  strange,  human  cry, 
turning  upon  him  for  a  single  instant  a  face  that  was 
as  white  as  the  white  stars  of  early  night — a  face 
with  great,  glowing,  half-mad  eyes.  It  was  Oachi. 
His  pistol  dropped  to  the  ground.  His  heart  stopped 
beating.  No  cry,  no  breath  of  sound,  came  from 
his  paralyzed  lips.  And  like  a  wild  thing  Oachi  was 
fleeing  from  him  into  the  darkening  depths  of  the 
forest.  Life  leaped  into  his  limbs,  and  he  raced  like 
mad  after  her,  overtaking  her  with  a  panting,  joy- 
ous cry.  When  she  saw  that  she  was  caught  the 
girl  turned.  Her  hair  had  fallen,  and  swept  about 
her  shoulders  and  her  body.  She  tried  to  speak,  but 
only  bursting  sobs  came  from  her  breast.    As  she 


292  THE  GRIZZLY 

shrank  from  him,  Roscoe  saw  that  her  clothing  was 
in  shreds,  and  that  her  thin  moccasins  were  almost 
torn  from  her  little  feet.  The  truth  held  him  for 
another  moment  stunned  and  speechless.  Like  a 
lightning  flash  there  recurred  to  him  her  last  words: 
"And  some  day — the  Valley  of  Silent  Men  will  awak- 
en." He  understood — now.  She  had  followed  him, 
fighting  her  way  through  swamp  and  forest  along  the 
river,  hiding  from  him,  and  yet  keeping  him  company 
so  long  as  her  little  broken  heart  could  urge  her  on. 
And  then  alone,  with  a  last  prayer  for  him — she  had 
planned  to  hill  herself*  He  trembled.  Something 
wonderful  happened  with  him,  flooding  his  soul  with 
day — with  a  joy  that  descended  upon  him  as  the 
Hand  of  the  Messiah  must  have  fallen  upon  the  heads 
of  the  children  of  Samaria.  With  a  great,  glad  cry  he 
sprang  toward  Oachi  and  caught  her  in  his  arms, 
crushing  her  face  to  him,  kissing  her  hair  and  her  eyes 
and  her  mouth  until  at  last  with  a  strange,  soft  cry 
she  put  her  arms  up  about  his  neck  and  sobbed  like  a 
little  child  upon  his  breast. 

Back  in  the  camp  the  Indian  waited.  The  white 
stars  grew  red.  In  the  forest  the  shadows  deepened 
to  the  chaos  of  night.     Once  more  there  was  sound, 


THE  GRIZZLY  293 

the  pulse  and  beat  of  a  life  that  moves  in  darkness. 
In  the  camp  the  Indian  grew  restless  with  the 
thought  that  Roscoe  had  wandered  away  until  he 
was  lost.    So  at  last  he  fired  his  rifle. 

Oachi  started  in  Roscoe's  arms. 

"You  should  go  back — alone,"  she  whispered. 
The  old,  fluttering  love-note  was  in  her  voice,  sweeter 
than  the  sweetest  music  to  Roscoe  Cummins.  He 
turned  her  face  up,  and  held  it  between  his  two 
hands. 

"If  I  go  there,"  he  said,  pointing  for  a  moment 
into  the  south,  "I  go  alone.  But  if  I  go  there — " 
and  he  pointed  into  the  north — "I  go  with  you. 
Oachi,  my  beloved,  I  am  going  with  you."  He  drew 
her  close  again,  and  asked,  almost  in  a  whisper: 
"And  when  we  awaken  in  the  Valley  of  Silent  Men, 
how  shall  it  be,  my  Oachi?" 

And  with  the  sweet  love-note,  Oachi  said  in  Cree: 

"Hand  in  hand,  my  master." 

Hand  in  hand  they  returned  to  the  waiting  Indian 
and  the  firef 


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UNDER  THE  TONTO  RIM 

THE  VANISHING  AMERICAN 

TAPPAN'S  BURRO 

THE  THUNDERING  HERD 

THE  CALL  OF  THE  CANYON 

WANDERER  OF  THE  WASTELAND 

THE  DAY  OF  THE  BEAST 

TO  THE  LAST  MAN 

THE  MYSTERIOUS  RIDER 

THE  MAN  OF  THE  FOREST 

THE  DESERT  OF  WHEAT 

THE  U.  P.  TRAIL 

WILDFIRE 

THE  BORDER  LEGION 

THE  RAINBOW  TRAIL 

THE  HERITAGE  OF  THE  DESERT 

RIDERS  OF  THE  PURPLE  SAGE 

LIGHT  OF  WESTERN  STARS 

THE  LAST  OF  THE  PLAINSMEN 

THE  LONE  STAR  RANGER 

DESERT  GOLD 

BETTY  ZANE 

ZANE  GREY'S  BOOKS  FOR  BOYS 

ROPING  LIONS  IN  THE  GRAND  CANYON 

THE  RED-HEADED  OUTFIELD 

KEN  WARD  IN  THE  JUNGLE 

THE  YOUNG  LION  HUNTER 

THE  YOUNG  FORESTER 

THE  YOUNG  PITCHER 

THE  SHORT  STOP 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,    Publishers,    NEW  YORK 


THE  NOVELS  OF 
EDGAR    RICE    BURROUGHS 

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TARZAN,  LORD  OF  THE  JUNGLE 

TARZAN  OF  THE  APES 

TARZAN  AND  THE  JEWELS  OF  OPAR 

TARZAN  AND  THE  ANT  MEN 

TARZAN  AND  THE  GOLDEN  LION 

TARZAN  THE  TERRIBLE 

TARZAN  THE  UNTAMED 

THE  BEASTS  OF  TARZAN 

THE  RETURN  OF  TARZAN 

THE  SON  OF  TARZAN 

JUNGLE  TALES  OF  TARZAN 

THE  MASTER  MIND  OF  MARS 

THE  PRINCESS  OF  MARS 

THE  WARLORD  OF  MARS 

THE  GODS  OF  MARS 

THUVIA,     MAID  OF  MARS 

THE  CHESSMAN  OF  MARS 

THE  MONSTER  MEN 

THE  WAR  CHIEF 

THE  OUTLAW  OF  TORN 

THE  MAD  KING 

THE  MOON  MAID 

THE  ETERNAL  LOVER 

THE  CAVE  GIRL 

THE  BANDIT  OF  HELL'S  BEND 

THE  LAND  THAT  TIME  FORGOT 

AT  THE  EARTH'S  CORE 

PELLUCIDAR 

THE  MUCKER 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,     Publishers,     NEW  YORK 


RUBY    M.    AYRES'    NOVELS 


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BROKEN 


THE  LUCKIEST  LADY 
CHARITY'S  CHOSEN 


THE  PLANTER  OF  THE  TREE 


OVERHEARD 

SPOILT  MUSIC 

fTHE  MAN  THE  WOMEN  LOVED 

THE  MAN  WITHOUT  A  HEART 


A  BACHELOR  HUSBAND 


THE  SCAR 


THE  MARRIAGE  OF  BARRY  WICKLOW 


THE  SECOND  HONEYMOON 


GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,  Publishers,  NEW  YORK 


PETER  B.   KYNE'S  NOVELS 

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THE  THUNDER  GOD 

A  romance  of  big  business,  men  fighting    for  enormous  stakes  and  of 
the  brilliant  projects  of  one  man,  a  scientist. 

THEY  ALSO  SERVE 

The  story  of  a  cowboy's  horse  that  served  in  France  with  the  artillery. 

THE  UNDERSTANDING  HEART 

Men  said  Monica  Dale  had  the  understanding  heart  of  a  woman  and  the 
soul  of  a  gallant  gentleman. 

MONEY  TO  BURN 

The  exciting  adventures  of  Elmer  Clarke  with  his  suddenly  acquired 
million. 

THE  ENCHANTED  HILL 

The  struggle1  for  honor  and  the  Enchanted  Hill  Ranch  in  the  Southwest. 

NEVER  THE  TWAIN   SHALL  MEET 

A  romance  of  California  and  the  South  Seas. 

THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

When  two  men  clash  and  the  under-dog  has  Irish  blood  in  his  veins — a 
tale  Kyne  can  tell. 

CAPPY  RICKS 

Cappy  Ricks  gave  Matt  Peasley  the  acid  test  because  he  knew  it  was 
good  for  his  soul. 

CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

Cappy  retires  but  the  romance  of  the  sea  and  business  kept  calling  him 
back  and  he  comes  back  strong. 

KINDRED  OF  THE  DUST 

Donald  McKay,  son  of  Hector  McKay,  millionaire  lumber  king,  falls  in 
love  with  "  Nan  of  the  Sawdust  pile." 

THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  GIANTS 

The  fight  of  the  Cardigans,  father  and  son,  to  hold  the  valley  of  the  giants 
against  treachery. 

WEBSTER,  MAN'S  MAN 

The  adventures  of  a  man  and  woman  in  a  Central  American  revolution 
A  real  soldier  of  fortune  story. 

CAPTAIN  SCRAGGS 

This  sea  yarn  recounts  the  adventures  of  three  rapscallion  seafaring  men. 

THE  LONG  CHANCE 

Harley  P.jHennage  is  a  gambler,  the  best  and  worst  man  of  San  Pasqual, 
and  there  is  the  lovely  Donna.  

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,  Publishers,  NEW  YORK 


JACKSON  GREGORY'S  NOVELS 

May  be  had  wherever   book*   are  sold.     Ask  for   Grosset   &    Dunlap's   list 

EMERALD  TRAILS 

Hard  riding,  reckless  adventure — a  story  based  upon  the  smuggling 
of  jewels  from  the   Orient  through  the  redwoods   of   California. 

REDWOOD  AND  GOLD 

A  Tomance  of  thei  Redwood  forests  and  a  fight  for  the  control  of  an 
old  ranch  and  the  gold  that  is  hidden  on  it. 

CAPTAIN  CAVALIER 

A  romance  of  Old  California*  in  the  days  of  the  Spanish  Aristocracy. 

A  DESERT  THOROUGHBRED 

The  thrilling  adventures  of  Camilla  Darrel  across  the  Mexican  border. 

THE  MAID  OF  THE  MOUNTAIN 

A  thrilling  story  about  a  lovely  girl  who  flees  to  the  mountains  to 
avoid  an  obnoxious  suitor — and  finds  herself  suspected  of  murder. 

DAUGHTER  OF  THE  SUN 

A  tale  of  Aztec  treasure — of  American  adventurers  who  seek  it — of 
Zoraida  who  hides  it. 

TIMBER  WOLF 

This  is  a  story  of  action  in  the  open,  dominated  by  the  heroic  figure 
of  Timber-Wolf. 

THE  EVERLASTING  WHISPER 

Tells  of  a  strong  man's  struggle  against  savage^  nature  and  of  a 
girl's  regeneration  from  a  spoiled  child  of  wealth  into  a  courageous, 
strong-willed   woman. 

MAN  TO  MAN 

How<  Steve  won  his  game  and  the  girl  he  loved  is  a  story  filled  with 
breathless   situations. 

THE  BELLS  OF  SAN  JUAN 

Dr.  Virginia  Page  is  forced  tq  go  with  the  sheriff  on  a  night 
journey  into  the  strongholds  of  a  lawless!  band. 

JUDITH  OF  BLUE  LAKE  RANCH 

Judith  Sanford,  part  owner  of  a  cattle  ranch,  realizes  that  she  is 
being  robbed  by  her  foreman.  With  the  help  of  Bud  Lee  she  check- 
mates Trevor's  scheme. 

THE  JOYOUS  TROUBLE  MAKER 

A  reporter  sets  up  housekeeping  close  to  Beatrice's  ranch,  much  to 
her  chagrin.     There  is  another  man  who  complicates  matters. 

SIX  FEET  FOUR 

Beatrice  Waverly  is  robbed  o|  $5,000  and  suspicion  fastens  upon 
Buck  Thornton^,  but  she   soon  realizes   he   is  not  guilty. 

WOLF  BREED 

No  Luck  Brennan,  a  woman  hater,  finds  a  match  in  Ygerne,  whose 
clever  fencing  wins  the  admiration  and  love  of  the  "Lone  Wolf." 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,  Publishers,  NEW  YORK 


THE  NOVELS  OF  TEMPLE  BAILEY 

VI 
May  be  had  wherever  books  are  sold.    Ask  for  Grosset  &.  Dunlap's  list, 

WALL  FLOWERS 

They  were  twins,  they  were  "Wall  Flowers"  perhaps — but  they  were  beautiful, 
and  young  and  real. 

THE  BLUE  WINDOW 

Hildegarde  finds  herself  transplanted  from  the  middle  western  farm  to  the  gay 
social  whirl  of  the  East. 

PEACOCK  FEATHERS 

Jerry,  the  idealist,  loved  Mimi,  a  beautiful  spoiled  society  girl.    A  conflict  of 
wealth  and  love. 

THE  DIM  LANTERN 

The  romance  of  little  Jane  Barnes  who  is  loved  by  two  men. 

THE  GAY  COCKADE 

Unusual  short  stories  in  which  Miss  Bailey  shows  her  knowledge  of  charactet- 
and  her  skill  in  romance  tales. 

TRUMPETER  SWAN 

Randy  Paine  came  back  from  France  to  the  monotony  of  every  day  affairs.  But 
a  girl  showed  him  the  beauty  in  the  commonplace. 

THE  TIN  SOLDIER 

Deny  wishes  to  serve  his  country  but  is  bound  by  a  tie  he  cannot  in  honor  break* 
Jean  loves  him  and  shares  his  humiliation  to  help  him  win- 

MISTRESS  ANNE 

Into  the  life  of  Anne  came  two  men:  one  is  weak  and  the  other  strong  and  they 
both  need  Anne. 

CONTRARY  MARY 

An  old  fashioned  love  story  that  has  a  very  modern  application. 

GLORY  OF  YOUTH 

An  old  question  yet  ever  new — how  far  should  an  engagement  of  marriage  bind 
two  persons  who  find  they  no  longer  love? 


GROSSET  &  DUNLAP  :  Publishers  :  NEW  YORK 


MARGARET  PEDLER'S  NOVELS 

May  be  had  wherever  books  ara  -sold.     Ask  .for  Grosset  and   Dunlap's  List. 


BITTER  HERITAGE 

She  learned  that  her  father,  the  man  she  had  idolized,  was  a  thief 
and  a  swindler — a  bitter  heritage  not  to  be  escaped. 

YESTERDAY'S  HARVEST 

The  harvest  of  an  early  love  brings  a  strange  situation  and  triumph 
of  sacrifice. 

TOMORROWS  TANGLE 

The  game  of  love  is  fraught  with  danger.  Ta  win  in  the  finest  sense 
it  must  be  played  fairly. 

RED  ASHES 

A  gripping  story  of  a  doctor  who  failed  in  a  crucial  operation  an* 
had  only  himself  to  blame.     Could  the  woman  he  loved  forgive  him, 

THE  BARBARIAN  LOVER 

A  love  story  based  upon  the  creed  that  the  only  important  thing3 
between  birth  and  death  are  the  courage  to  face  life  and  the  love 
to  sweeten  it. 

THE  MOON  OUT  OF  REACH 

Nan  Davenport's  problem  is  one  that  many  a  girl  has  faced — her 
own  happiness   or  her   father's   bond. 

THE  HOUSE  OF  DREAMS  COME  TRUE 

How  a  man  and  a  woman  fulfilled  a  gypsy's  prophecy. 

THE  HERMIT  OF  FAR  END 

How  love  made  its  way  into  a  walled-in  house  and  a  walled-in  heart. 

THE  LAMP  OF  FATE 

The  story  of  a  Woman  who  tried  to  take  all  and  give!  nothing. 

THE  SPLENDID  FOLLY 

Dol  you  believe  that  husbands  and  wives  should  have  no  secrets 
from  each  other? 

THE  VISION  OF  DESIRE 

It  is  easy  to  destroy  illusions,  difficult  to  restore  them.  Anne  re- 
stored love  from  the  ashes   of  disillusion. 

WAVES  OF  DESTINY 

Each  of  these  stories  has  the  sharp  impact  of  an  emotional  crisis— 
the  compressed  quality  of  one  of  Margaret  Pedlar's  widely  read  novels. 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,  Publishers,  NEW  YORK 


Charles    Alden    Seltzer's    Western    Novels 

May  be  had  wherever  books  are  sold.     Ask  for  Grosset  &   Dunlap's   list 

The  west  is  Mr.  Seltzer's  special  field.  He  has  a  long  list  of 
novels  under  his  name,  and  they  all  deal  with  those  vast  areas 
where  land  is  reckoned  in  miles,  not  in  acres,  and  where  the  popu- 
lation per  square  mile,  excluding  cattle,  is  sparce  and  breathing  space 
is  ample.  It  is  the  west  of  an  older  day  that  Mr.  Seltzer  handles 
and  a  west  that  few  novelists  know  as  well  as  he. 

THE  MESA 

MYSTERY  RANGE 


LAND  OF  THE  FREE 


THE  GENTLEMAN  FROM  VIRGINIA 

THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  STARS 

CHANNING  COMES  THROUGH 

LAST  HOPE  RANCH 

THE  WAY  OF  THE  BUFFALO 

BRASS  COMMANDMENTS 

WEST! 

SQUARE  DEAL  SANDERSON 

"  BEAU  "  RAND 


THE  BOSS  OF  THE  LAZY  Y 
"DRAG"  HARLAN 


THE  TRAIL  HORDE 
THE  RANCHMAN 
FIREBRAND  TREVISON 
THE  RANGE  BOSS 


THE  VENGEANCE  OF  JEFFERSON  GAWNE 
Grosset  &  Dunlap,        Publishers,        New  York 


DETECTIVE  STORIES  BY  J.  S.  FLETCHER 

May  be   had   wherever   books  are  sold.     Ask  for   Grosset   &    Dunlap's   list 

J.  S.  Fletcher's  mystery  detective  stories  of  the  puzzle 
variety  have  made  him  the  generally  acknowledged  suc- 
cessor to  Conan  Doyle  in  this  field. 

THE  BLACK  HOUSE  IN  HARLEY  STREET 


THE  PASSENGER  TO  FOLKESTONE 


MARCHESTER  ROYAL 


THE  CARTWRIGHT  GARDENS  MURDER 


EXTERIOR  TO  THE  EVIDENCE 


THE  MISSING  CHANCELLOR 


GREEN  INK 


FALSE  SCENT 


THE  MIDDLE  TEMPLE  MURDER 


GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,  Publishers,  NEW  YORK 


RAFAEL  SABATINI'S  NOVELS 

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J  ESI,  a  diminutive  city  of  the  Italian  Marches,  was  the 
birthplace  of  Rafael  Sabatini. 

He  first  went  to  school  in  Switzerland  and  from  there  to 
Lycee  of  Oporto,  Portugal,  and  has  never  attended  an  Eng- 
lish school.  But  English  is  hardly  an  adopted  language  for 
him,  as  he  learned  it  from  his  mother,  an  English  woman. 
Today  Rafael  Sabatini  is  regarded  as  M  The  Alexandre 
Dumas  of  Modern  Fiction." 

THE  TAVERN  KNIGHT 

THE  NUPTIALS  OF  CORBAL 

BELLARION 

THE  SHAME  OF  MOTLEY 

THE  LION'S  SKIN 

THE  GATES  OF  DOOM 

THE  TRAMPLING^OF  THE   LILLIES 

THE  STROLLING  SAINT 

THE  CAROLINIAN 

MISTRESS  WILDING 

THE  BANNER  OF  THE  BULL 

SAINT  MARTIN'S  SUMMER 

FORTUNE'S  FOOL 

BARDELY'S  THE  MAGNIFICENT 

THE  SNARE 

CAPTAIN  BLOOD 

THE  SEA-HAWK 

SCARAMOUCHE 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,   Publishers,   NEWYORK 


THE  NOVELS  OF 

GRACE  LIVINGSTON   HILL 

May  be  had  wherever  books   are  sold.     Ask  for   Grosset  and   Dunlap's   List. 

OUT  OF  THE  STORM 

THE  HONOR  GIRL 

JOB'S  NIECE 

COMING  THROUGH  THE  RYE 

A  NEW  NAME 

ARIEL  CUSTER 

THE  BEST  MAN 

THE  CITY  OF  FIRE 

CLOUDY  JEWEL 

DAWN  OF  THE  MORNING 

THE  ENCHANTED  BARN 

EXIT  BETTY 

THE  FINDING  OF  JASPER  HOLT 

THE  GIRL  FROM  MONTANA 

LP,  MICHAEL 

THE  MAN  OF  THE  DESERT 

MARCIA  SCHUYLER 


MIRANDA 

THE  MYSTERY  OF  MARY 

PHOEBE  DEANE 

THE  RED  SIGNAL 

THE  SEARCH 

TOMORROW  ABOUT  THIS  TIME 

THE  TRYST 

THE  WITNESS 

NOT  UNDER  THE  LAW 

RE-CREATIONS 

THE  VOICE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,  Publishers,  NEW  YORK 


STORIES  OF  RARE  CHARM  BY 

GENE  STRATTON  PORTER 

May  be  had  wherever  books  are  sold.    Ask  for  Grosset  and  Dunlap's  list. 

TALES  YOU  WON'T  BELIEVE 

The  beloved  author  relates  in  a  chatty  way,  imany  fascinating  tales  oi 
birds,  moths,  flowers  and  animals. 

THE  MAGIC  GARDEN 

In  the  magic  garden  the  bud  of  childhood  friendship  blossomed  into  per- 

fcCt  l0Ve'      THE  KEEPER  OF  THE  BEES 

A  war  torn  soldier  finds  health,  adventure  and  romance  on  the  Cali- 
fornia  coast.  THE    WHITE   FLAG 

How  a  young  girl,  singlehanded,  fought  against  the  power  of  the  More- 
lands  who  held  the  town  of  Ashwater  in  their  grip. 

HER  FATHER'S  DAUGHTER 

The  story  of  such  a  healthy,  level-headed,  balanced  young  woman  that 
it's  a  delightful  experience  to  know  her. 

A  DAUGHTER   OF  THE  LAND 

In  which  Kate  Bates  fights  for  her  freedom  against  long  odds,  renounc- 
ing the  easy  path  of  luxury. 

FRECKLES 

The  story  of  a  nameless  waif  of  the  Limberlost  that  leaves  a  warm  feel- 
ing about  the  heart. 

A  GIRL  OF  THE  LIMBERLOST 

The  sheer  beauty  of  a  girl's  soul  and  the  rich  beauties  of  the  out-of-doors 
are  in  the  pages  of  this  book. 

THE  HARVESTER 

The  romance  of  a  strong  manjwhose  character  is  one  of  the  author's  best 
creations.  LADDIE 

A  bright  cheery  tale  of  love  and  romance  in  a  country  town  of  Indiana. 

AT  THE  FOOT  OF  THE  RAINBOW 

This  is  a  story  of  love  and  friendship  that  gave  freely  without  return. 

MICHAEL  O'HALLORAN 

"  Micky  "  is  a  newsie,  small  in  size  but  with  a  big  broad  common  sense 
philosophy,  and  a  ready  Irish  wit. 

SONG  OF  THE  CARDINAL 

The  love  idyll  of  the  Cardinal  and  his  mate,  told  with  rare  delicacy  and 
humor. 

GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,    Publishers,    NEW  YORK 


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